Maggie poured her cold coffee into the pitcher she kept near the sink for watering plants, and got a fresh hot cup from the thermal carafe. She carried this out into the garden, to warm her hands as she looked about and thought of jobs for the girls to do.

Raking, picking up twigs and such, maybe. Perhaps they could put that into the garden compost, and they'd think they'd seen the heart of the garden. Would that seem enough of a punishment, and yet be boring enough, to keep them from bothering her in the future? She'd better check that back fence to see just how much damage had been done, how much effort expended to get through the fence into her yard.

As she surveyed the yard, Maggie sighed. Cup plants, what a bad idea that had been. They had, for one season, nicely screened the back line of her lot. But then they had sprung up messily all about the lower part of the yard, and fallen down along the fence. More of a nuisance than a protection, now.

And not so much screening her from the outside world, as screening it from her, she saw as she got closer. Dead stalks leaning every which way against the rickety chicken wire fence along the property line — cup plants, goldenrod, coneflower, weeds she wasn't sure of, fell over themselves and the fence, knocked down in several places; even a couple of the metal uprights were leaning over. Pearl and Abbey must have not so much knocked down a section as merely stepped on it and pushed it down a little more.

How had she let it go this far? She had better fix it before she was Audited. Borders and boundaries were important. She pulled at a couple of stalks — deep roots for these border-crossers. Could she give Abbey and Pearl the job of chopping down and raking away these stalks?


Created by kristin. Last Modification: Monday 13 of February, 2006 11:23:00 EST by kristin.