“Exploring life through fiction, together.”

My grandad used to grow amaryllises. For years, I never noticed. Sure, there was the odd houseplant about, but usually it was a mess of green in the back kitchen. Until I rounded the corner one day and a hand-sized flower waved at me from a four-foot stalk like some Jurassic monstrosity that ripped its way into the future.

Fiction Bite - Changing of the guards

Her mother always grew sunflowers out front. Their fat, yellow heads would bob in the sea breeze, welcoming the guests. When she took over the business, she tarmacked them for extra parking. The whole season that followed, guests asked about the sunflowers. She made excuses. Didn’t say she couldn’t bear to look at the stupid things since her mother died. But they kept asking. Some even sent seeds. So here she was, sowing raised beds, like she’d done since before she could remember. Poppies, red suited her better.

Quote of the Week

'Every person needs to have a piece of garden, however small, to keep them in touch with the earth and therefore with something deeper in themselves...' — Carl Jung

Book of the month

Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon

Final Words

I started growing them after he died. For most of the year, they sit on my windowsill, boring, overlooked. But for a couple weeks, right in the depths of winter, they explode with life and with memories. Huge flower heads nod, and the ghost of my grandad nods back. They’re not my favourite flowers, but here I am, growing them nonetheless.

What do you keep around only because it has sentimental value? Has its worth to you changed over the years? In what direction? Would you be willing to hit reply? It’d make my day to hear from you.

With Love,

Josiah



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