Read Online Mulch ado about nothing by Jill Churchill - Free Book Online
Authors: Jill Churchill
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back and take a look. This is, of course, only a part-time home for me and nothing like my house and garden upstate.”
Jane was prepared to be disappointed after this warning. She hobbled down the side yard, which had a wooden fence with a few hanging pots of ivy and begonias. It was cool and dark and restful. Instead of a sidewalk, there was a wooden walkway with ferns here and there along the sides.
Nothing was spectacular, but the begonias were in full bloom and the ivy and ferns were spectacularly well kept. Not a spot or hint of yellowing on a single leaf. Entering the backyard behind Shelley and Miss Winstead, Jane was surprised. There were several large pines at the back of the lot where the yard sloped upward that were quite large and almost entirely concealed the house behind. In front of the pines were small islands of color and scattered, delicate-looking small plum trees. And there were quite a few Asian-looking ornaments.
But the garden was an exercise in restraint. Watching her step carefully, she limped along to a flagstone patio with a pair of old ceramic Foo dogs guarding the entrance. Shelley and Miss Winstead had abandoned her and were looking at something under the pines that appeared to be a sort of miniature teahouse.
The lawn was cool and green and so thick and evenly cut that it looked very like a fine carpet. The paths were made of tiny round stones embedded in a dark background that must have been dyed cement. Not the thing you’d want to walk on with crutches.
A Japanese woman came out the back door. “Hello,“ Jane said. “Dr. Eastman has invited the class to see his yard. Are you Mrs. Eastman?”
The woman’s face crinkled into a smile. She pointed to herself and said, “Housekeeper. This my grandson, Joe.”
A bright-eyed but serious-looking boy with black hair as tidy as the lawn had joined them. “Grandma has never learned much English, I’m afraid. What did you do to your leg, miss?”
Jane couldn’t make up a lie to this nice, polite, solemn child. He looked about twelve years old—a very composed twelve-year-old. “I just fell off a curbing. It’s a boring thing, but true.“
“Would you like to walk about or take a chair?“ he asked. His grandmother was standing behind him now, her hand on his shoulder, bobbing her head in a half-nodding, half-bowing manner.
“I’ll walk about a bit, thank you,“ Jane said with the same formal tone.
She got her crutches lined up and started out to follow Shelley around. Sensing movement behind her, she turned slightly. The boy was stooping along behind her and brushing up the round dents her crutches made in the grass.
“I’m so sorry,“ Jane said, “but I’m afraid to walk on the round stones.“
“No problem, miss,“ he said. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable sitting in the shade, however.”
Jane reconsidered and took his advice. His grandmother rushed inside and got a very pretty embroidered pillow to put behind her back as she sat down on a teak bench. “Thank you so much,“ Jane said, and couldn’t resist a little pleasant head bobbing in return.
The rest of the class followed quickly and all of them walked obediently along the stone paths, examining small sculptures and little mounds of subtly shaded flowers. Lavender and pale blue and light yellow mounds with perfect foliage. From Jane’s vantage point she couldn’t tell what they were.
“It’s a very pretty yard, Joe. Do you help take care of it?“
“ Yes, miss.“
“You do a very good job.“
“Thank you, miss.”
Polite conversations with polite children were hard on Jane. She gazed about, murmuring things like, “Oh, how pretty the paths are“ and “Isn’t that a lovely flowering bush?”
The garden was too perfect for her taste. There wasn’t a thing wrong with it except its exactitude. Everything was precisely round, or oblong, or gently curved with great precision. There didn’t appear to be a weed anywhere or a blade of grass
Jane was prepared to be disappointed after this warning. She hobbled down the side yard, which had a wooden fence with a few hanging pots of ivy and begonias. It was cool and dark and restful. Instead of a sidewalk, there was a wooden walkway with ferns here and there along the sides.
Nothing was spectacular, but the begonias were in full bloom and the ivy and ferns were spectacularly well kept. Not a spot or hint of yellowing on a single leaf. Entering the backyard behind Shelley and Miss Winstead, Jane was surprised. There were several large pines at the back of the lot where the yard sloped upward that were quite large and almost entirely concealed the house behind. In front of the pines were small islands of color and scattered, delicate-looking small plum trees. And there were quite a few Asian-looking ornaments.
But the garden was an exercise in restraint. Watching her step carefully, she limped along to a flagstone patio with a pair of old ceramic Foo dogs guarding the entrance. Shelley and Miss Winstead had abandoned her and were looking at something under the pines that appeared to be a sort of miniature teahouse.
The lawn was cool and green and so thick and evenly cut that it looked very like a fine carpet. The paths were made of tiny round stones embedded in a dark background that must have been dyed cement. Not the thing you’d want to walk on with crutches.
A Japanese woman came out the back door. “Hello,“ Jane said. “Dr. Eastman has invited the class to see his yard. Are you Mrs. Eastman?”
The woman’s face crinkled into a smile. She pointed to herself and said, “Housekeeper. This my grandson, Joe.”
A bright-eyed but serious-looking boy with black hair as tidy as the lawn had joined them. “Grandma has never learned much English, I’m afraid. What did you do to your leg, miss?”
Jane couldn’t make up a lie to this nice, polite, solemn child. He looked about twelve years old—a very composed twelve-year-old. “I just fell off a curbing. It’s a boring thing, but true.“
“Would you like to walk about or take a chair?“ he asked. His grandmother was standing behind him now, her hand on his shoulder, bobbing her head in a half-nodding, half-bowing manner.
“I’ll walk about a bit, thank you,“ Jane said with the same formal tone.
She got her crutches lined up and started out to follow Shelley around. Sensing movement behind her, she turned slightly. The boy was stooping along behind her and brushing up the round dents her crutches made in the grass.
“I’m so sorry,“ Jane said, “but I’m afraid to walk on the round stones.“
“No problem, miss,“ he said. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable sitting in the shade, however.”
Jane reconsidered and took his advice. His grandmother rushed inside and got a very pretty embroidered pillow to put behind her back as she sat down on a teak bench. “Thank you so much,“ Jane said, and couldn’t resist a little pleasant head bobbing in return.
The rest of the class followed quickly and all of them walked obediently along the stone paths, examining small sculptures and little mounds of subtly shaded flowers. Lavender and pale blue and light yellow mounds with perfect foliage. From Jane’s vantage point she couldn’t tell what they were.
“It’s a very pretty yard, Joe. Do you help take care of it?“
“ Yes, miss.“
“You do a very good job.“
“Thank you, miss.”
Polite conversations with polite children were hard on Jane. She gazed about, murmuring things like, “Oh, how pretty the paths are“ and “Isn’t that a lovely flowering bush?”
The garden was too perfect for her taste. There wasn’t a thing wrong with it except its exactitude. Everything was precisely round, or oblong, or gently curved with great precision. There didn’t appear to be a weed anywhere or a blade of grass
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