19.-21. Spring 517
On the days following the clearing of Anna’s attic, Oleander dug through his supplies and made plans for what to do with the rest of the garden. He barely had any resources to work with - some herb seeds, some flower seeds, but without a garden to his own house, he might as well use them for Anna’s garden. It would be his project, and the widow had agreed to give him free reign as soon as she had seen the small spot he had prepared under her window. Oleander was by no means a perfect gardener; all he had ever done was keeping his own small square of grass and beds in order and learning from trial and error.
He assembled some seeds from pouches he had brought from Mithryn – nothing fancy, the usual herbs, some of which smelled nice or had pretty flowers. Anna would not need most of them for their medicinal properties, so he stuck with those that remotely were something to look at, too, and threw in some chamomile and fennels for a tea that most old people fancied since it eased bellyaches.
Oleander was reluctant about keeping lavender around, since it smelled so strongly that it threatened to cover up the tolm he loved so much, but Hortense had gladly taken over and had a supply of the purple flower and its seeds in small pouches in the wardrobe, between her own clothes. Oleander borrowed some from her and bought bulbs for tulips, crocuses and daffodils from a neighbour. They were plants he had never cared to keep in his own garden for their lack of applied use, despite Hortense’s urges to “make it pretty for once”. Other gardens, however, were overflowing with these flowers in colourful varieties, so he supposed they were not especially hard to grow. For an extra copper, the neighbour had told him that tulips and crocuses liked sand with their soil and daffodils liked their ground a little wetter than the rest. As a final piece, he purchased a small peony plant from the market, already in surprisingly full rosy-and-white bloom. Nobody told him that peonies were best planted in autumn, and he mainly purchased it to have something in the garden that would be pretty right away.
And tolm – yes, tolm was also pretty when it bloomed in summer. He always had the seeds with him, the one and only tether to his mother.
Anna smiled as she spied him rounding the corner. She was hunched over the small flowerbed he had set up underneath her bedroom manor, the ancient watering can in her hands. “Oleander, boy! It’s so good to see you. Have you come to bring new wonders to this wilderness?”
“Precisely,” Oleander replied, uncharacteristically enthusiastic. He gently took the can from Anna’s hand and put it down while she got up. “You don’t need to water the orchid every day”, he explained to her, “only the roses, until they’ve taken root properly.”
She nodded. “Can I help you with anything today, boy?”
“No”, Oleander said, then corrected: “At least not yet. Today I need to dig the garden over, and that’s mostly hard work. You can help me when I set the bulbs, so you’ll know which spots to water later.”
He assembled some seeds from pouches he had brought from Mithryn – nothing fancy, the usual herbs, some of which smelled nice or had pretty flowers. Anna would not need most of them for their medicinal properties, so he stuck with those that remotely were something to look at, too, and threw in some chamomile and fennels for a tea that most old people fancied since it eased bellyaches.
Oleander was reluctant about keeping lavender around, since it smelled so strongly that it threatened to cover up the tolm he loved so much, but Hortense had gladly taken over and had a supply of the purple flower and its seeds in small pouches in the wardrobe, between her own clothes. Oleander borrowed some from her and bought bulbs for tulips, crocuses and daffodils from a neighbour. They were plants he had never cared to keep in his own garden for their lack of applied use, despite Hortense’s urges to “make it pretty for once”. Other gardens, however, were overflowing with these flowers in colourful varieties, so he supposed they were not especially hard to grow. For an extra copper, the neighbour had told him that tulips and crocuses liked sand with their soil and daffodils liked their ground a little wetter than the rest. As a final piece, he purchased a small peony plant from the market, already in surprisingly full rosy-and-white bloom. Nobody told him that peonies were best planted in autumn, and he mainly purchased it to have something in the garden that would be pretty right away.
And tolm – yes, tolm was also pretty when it bloomed in summer. He always had the seeds with him, the one and only tether to his mother.
Anna smiled as she spied him rounding the corner. She was hunched over the small flowerbed he had set up underneath her bedroom manor, the ancient watering can in her hands. “Oleander, boy! It’s so good to see you. Have you come to bring new wonders to this wilderness?”
“Precisely,” Oleander replied, uncharacteristically enthusiastic. He gently took the can from Anna’s hand and put it down while she got up. “You don’t need to water the orchid every day”, he explained to her, “only the roses, until they’ve taken root properly.”
She nodded. “Can I help you with anything today, boy?”
“No”, Oleander said, then corrected: “At least not yet. Today I need to dig the garden over, and that’s mostly hard work. You can help me when I set the bulbs, so you’ll know which spots to water later.”
LEDGER:
Secret :
