~The Bakery~
Growing up I lived on the outskirts of a semi "Big City", in Northern California. In our little valley there were farms, ranches and fruit orchards. I had big city living, but grew up running in the fields, "woods", and catching tadpoles in the ditches and creeks that ran by my house, so it had a "small town" feel.
We had a small shopping center, with a bakery right up the road from where we lived. It was the best bakery, even better than the ones down town.
As a child I would often go with my friends to get doughnuts fresh out of the fryer. We were allowed to stay as long as we liked, if it wasn't too busy. If it was, we'd get shooed out the door and on our way.
Once I started driving, my trips to the bakery became fewer and far between. They all but stopped once I moved out of the valley.
One morning as I was driving to visit my parents, I decided to pop in for a bite.
Getting out of my car I noticed a familiar looking Husky tied to a post outside of the bakery.
Walking in the door, I spied my old neighbor, Mr. Underwood.
Mr. Underwood was one of the most kind, gentlemanly, gentlemen of all times. When I was little, I would always stop by their house on my way home from school for a visit. Sometimes his house was a safe haven, if it was a day the boys decided to chase me home from school. He would stand out on his porch, shoo them all away, then give me the "all clear" when they were gone.
He would always call me when his "famous" grandson came to visit to see if I would like to meet him. I never got the chance because I was either grounded, or visiting my grandparents in another town.
He and the Mrs. always had a piece of candy for me, and visiting them was a treat within itself.
Oh, sorry, got a little lost there. We were talking about The Bakery....
So, I pop in the door & there sits Mr. Underwood.
I get my doughnut and coffee, walk over to say "hello".
"Pull up a chair, it's been a long time."
"Yes, it has. I'm sorry I have not been by to visit in a while."
We sat and talked over our coffee and doughnuts. He filling me in on his life and the Mrs. And me telling him of life away from home, work and college.
"It has been so nice catching up with you Mr. Underwood."
"It has been a pleasure. If you're in the neighborhood again, Gina and I are here every morning about this time. It would be nice to visit again."
I stood up, leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling him I would stop in next time I was in the area.
Driving away, I felt a sense of loss. I hadn't realized before then how important friendships with an older generation are, and how they need to be nurtured just as friendships with our peers do.
I made it a point to stop in once a week or so until I moved out of state. And I'm glad I did, because every time I see his grandson on TV, I see Mr. Underwood's eyes smiling at me over a cup of coffee at The Bakery.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Moonlight~ GBE2 #7
She was drawn outside by the moonlight~
Standing in the shadows, she felt drawn a little more.
Walking into the beam
tanned skin turned to cream.
The beam pulled her out to dance
She slowly began to spin when music started to play a song of what should have been.
Her husband watched her,
A smile upon his face~
Watching his wife dance with abandon and grace.
A tear trailed down his face, as he slipped outside into her embrace~
Would she remember this dance in the morning?
He did not know.
For him~ a lasting memory of her.
Standing in the shadows, she felt drawn a little more.
Walking into the beam
tanned skin turned to cream.
The beam pulled her out to dance
She slowly began to spin when music started to play a song of what should have been.
Her husband watched her,
A smile upon his face~
Watching his wife dance with abandon and grace.
A tear trailed down his face, as he slipped outside into her embrace~
Would she remember this dance in the morning?
He did not know.
For him~ a lasting memory of her.
Friday, July 1, 2011
GBE2 #6 The Old Man, Fishing, The Money Tree, and Me
Early last May, as I was walking down the road carrying my fishing poles, tackle box, and fishing bag, wishing I had a wagon to tote my stuff with, when I came upon a little old man sitting on a stump by the side of the road, picking his fingernails with the tip of an itty bitty pocket knife. I nodded my head in his direction,"Good morning, Sir." " Hello young lady. Off to do some fishing?"
I looked at him, then at my gear, then back to him. Before I could stop them, the words popped out of my mouth, "Uh, no. I just like toting this stuff around the neighborhood. Makes people wonder what I'm up to."
"Well now," he chuckled, "I hope you catch 'The Big One' " "Thank you sir," I said with a smile. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your day."
"I will, young lady. You do the same."
"Sure will, thank you."
Walking away, I turned back to give him a little wave. He was already back to work on his fingernails and didn't see me.
Finding a shady spot by the side of the lake, I looked around and took note of what a truly beautiful day it was turning out to be. The sky was as blue as a robin's egg with big cotton ball clouds.
A slight breeze blew in from the west bringing with it the scent of sage and willow trees. I looked up, "Gramps, looks like it's a perfect day for fishing. Thank you Lord for this day."
I always talk to Gramps and God while I'm fishing. It makes me not miss him so much, and settles a feeling of peace and serenity within my soul.
I baited my hook, cast my line out, leaned back against the tree, and opened my book.
I hadn't been reading long when the hair on the back of my neck started to rise. I felt as if I was being watched. I shivered, took a quick look around.
Seeing no one, I slowly reached for the buck knife in my tackle box.
"You won't be needing that knife, missy," the old man said, with humor in his voice as he came around the tree. "I don't bite."
He smile to reveal a toothless mouth.
I grinned right back at him, "Why don't you pull up a patch of grass, and have a seat? You can use my extra pole if you'd like."
"Why two poles if there's only one of you fishing?"
Shrugging my shoulders, "I like to be prepared. I have a habit of breaking things," I said as I glanced at the tip of my favorite pink pole. "Oh, I see. The blue tape is a nice touch."
With our lines in the water, we sat chatting about fishing, our children, our spouses, and life in general.
We talked about the economy, and how my family was trying to get out of debt. But with building medical debt, and rising gas prices it took all we had to make it from paycheck to paycheck. It seemed the harder we worked, the more debt we accumulated. I was almost in tears, when he laid his hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry my child, God sees how you are struggling, and He would never give you a load that is to heavy to bear. I have a feeling you will be fine."
"Thank you, Sir. I am sorry for unloading on you like this."
"Nonsense. Sometimes it does a soul good to talk things out."
With all of that talking, I was getting mighty thirsty.
"Would you care for a water? I brought two."
"Being prepared again?"
"I guess you could say that. One is half frozen, the other not. Since I don't have an extra hand to carry a cooler I like to have the frozen one with, just in case I want to stay here for a bit."
"You can have the one with the ice if you'd like."
"Thank you. It is so nice that you are so kind to such an old man."
Looking out over the lake, we sat in silence as we drank. He had a pensive look in his eyes, as he turned to me.
Setting his water down, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an object roughly the color and shape of a silver dollar.
Looking into my eyes, he took my hand in both of his, and placed the object in my palm, closing my fingers around it. It was then that I noticed his eyes were as blue as the sky, when before I could have sworn they were brown.
He gave my hand a slight squeeze and said, "With this seed, you shall be blessed."
He lifted my hand, and kissed the top of my fingers. I pulled back, just a little creeped out by his actions, not knowing what to say or do.
Looking down at my closed hand the, object/seed started to grow warm, and change shape. A sense of peace and well being seemed to spread outward from it. Through my hand, up my arm, seeping into my blood, flooding my body with feelings of comfort. "Kind of like coming home after a long trip," I thought to myself.
Taking my hand in both of his again, the old man said, "This will provide for your every need."
I opened my hand to study the seed with my eyes and fingers.
It had a slight bulge in the middle where it had once been flat. It was smooth, but yet had the feel of an egg shell.
I brought it to my nose to smell it. It gave off no odor.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It is a seed," he replied. "Carry it close to your heart."
I slipped it into my t-shirt pocket. All of a sudden I started to feel sleepy. I wanted to curl up like a kitten in the sunshine, and take a nap.
Yawning I said, "Oh, excuse me. I don't know what has come over me. All I can think about is taking a nap."
As I leaned back against the tree, I could feel my eye lids growing heavy. "You should be scared. You should gather up your things and leave. You should get up. GET UP!!! GET UP!!! GET UP!!! You should get out of here, now!" My mind screamed, but my body would not obey.
I looked over at the old man, mumbling as my speech became slurred, "Brown....Your eyes....they.....are.... brown...."
My eyes would not stay open. I started to drift off into sleep.
I could feel the old man leaning close to me. I could smell him. He smelled like camping. Wood smoke, mixed with sunshine and sage. He smelled like my Gramps.
I felt like I was being wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket, as the breeze kissed my cheeks. I could feel he was going. I tried to open my eyes, but just ended up burrowing deeper in the blanket.
"Keep the seed close to your heart during the day, my sweet girl. At night sleep with it under your pillow. When the Strawberry Moon arrives plant it between your raspberry and blackberry vines." "How....how did you know.... about my vines?"
"Remember to wait for the Strawberry Moon. With my help, you will know what to do." His words seemed to come on the whisper of the wind. Like a breath in my ear.
Poke....poke....poke... I tried to slap the sensation away...poke...poke...poke...More insistent now.
Muzzy headed, I struggled to open my eyes.
"Hey! Hey lady! Hey!!!" poke...poke..poke...
"Hey hey hey hey hey." poke poke poke poke poke.
With a crick in my neck, I opened my eyes just in time to see a stick coming dangerously close to my nose, but meeting with my shoulder instead. poke..
"Quit it!" I croaked out as I grabbed the stick.
A little boy, about six years old, jumped back with a shriek.
"Oh my goodness lady! I thought you were dead! You've got a fish on your line."
I handed the boy my pole, "Here, you reel it in."
"REALLY!" He exclaimed, "I ain't never caught a fish before."
I struggled to shake off the sleepies, as the boy struggled to reel in the fish. Stretching, I looked around. "Hmmmm...That's odd." I thought, "No blanket. The water bottle hasn't been opened. What is going on?""Hey kid."
"Yeah?"
"Did you see an old man hanging around here?"
"Nope."
"Are you sure?"
"Yep.""You didn't see anyone sitting by me?"
"Nope. All I seen was you, and you was dead."
"Hmmmmm. Must have been a dream," I said to myself.
"I most certainly am not dead, mister," I said to the boy.
"Well I thought you was."
"Well, I'm not. Do you need help?"
"No. I can get this," he grunted as he struggled with the fish.
The boy was reeling his little heart out, and it tickled me to see him trying to land "his" fish.
Finally he pulled the fish up onto shore. Dancing with glee, he started singing, "I caught a fish. I caught a fish. All by myself, I caught a fish."
With delight on his face, he asked me, "Did you see that? I did it all by myself. Wait until I tell my mom I caught a fish."
"What about your dad? Don't you want to tell him?"
"I don't got a dad. He went away when I was little. But mom says we do just fine without him," he said, followed by a heavy sigh.
My heart breaking for him, I tousled his hair.
He looked up at me with big eyes and whispered, "that fish is really big, isn't he?"
"He sure is."
Smiling at his unbridled joy, I asked him if he'd like to keep the fish.
"I don't have a fish bowl big enough to keep him in," he pouted.
"Well then, let's get it off that hook, and back in the water."
"Okay. Thanks lady. That was a lot of fun!"
After releasing the fish, the boy took off at a run. He had to get home "real quick" to tell his mom.
As I gathered up my belongings thinking about the boy and his fish, a warm feeling began to spread across the left side of my chest. In all of our excitement, I had forgotten about the seed.
Sticking my hand in my pocket, I said, "How could it have been a dream if I still have this?"
Quickly I glanced around to make sure there was no one around to overhear me talking to myself. I felt crazy enough, as it was, talking to myself while taking a seed out of my pocket that was given to me by someone who was never there.
I could tell by the way it felt that it had changed while I was asleep. When I took it out, I held it up to the light, "How odd is that?" Not only had the seed grown more plump, it had also changed colors. It had gone from silver to pink in the time I had been asleep.
Walking home with the seed in my pocket above my heart, I thought about the old man's whispered words.
"Strawberry Moon," I mumbled.
"Between the vines," I shook my head.
When I got home, I Googled Strawberry Moon. I found out that the full moon in the month of June is called a "Strawberry Moon". According to the 2011 Farmers Almanac, the Strawberry Moon was named by the Algonquin Tribe. They call it that because June is the month for harvesting strawberries.
"So for one month I have to keep this thing close to my heart during the day, and under my pillow at night.Hmmph...." I said while holding it in my palm. It started to grow warm again. I felt a little put out by the fact that I was going to have to wear pocket tees or dress shirts with a pocket for a month. As my feelings became negative, the seed started to cool. The color fading back to silver, it started to shrivel.
"Okay, okay, " I said to the seed. "I'll keep you close to my heart." I plopped it back in my pocket.
"Dear Lord," I said to myself, "now, I've really lost it. Not only am I talking to myself I'm talking to a seed. Oh my!"
During that month, the seed continued to give off a pleasant heat and darken in color. I tried countless times to take a picture of it to post online, to see if anyone could help me identify it. In the photos it looked like a silver dollar slug.
Any time I took it out to show anyone, it would revert to it's original shape and size. Plumping back up a soon as I put it back in my pocket.
My husband thought I was nuts, as well as my children and friends. In fact, I believe even I was questioning my own sanity. I finally stopped talking about the seed as May came to a close.
Two more weeks, and I would plant the thing, just to be rid of it.
The night of the Strawberry Moon had finally arrived. I waited until everyone had fallen asleep.
I took the seed from under my pillow, quietly slipped on my slippers and snuck out the door. I picked up my trowel, and some potting soil from the garage.
I quietly opened the gate, and went into the yard. As I made my way to my raspberry and blackberry vines I notice how light it was in the yard. The moon was so bright it looked like it was early dawn.
I quickly got down on my knees and started to dig. I dug until I thought I heard the old man say, "That's deep enough." The hole was about a foot deep. Again, the old man voice came to me, "Now dump in some potting soil." I started to fill the hole with potting soil.
"Not so much!" His voice seemed to be riding on the wind. Just as it had when I started to doze off by the lake side.
"Now put the seed in."
"Good. Cover it up with the original dirt from the hole." I covered it up making a small mound.
"No, no, no. Not like that!" The voice nearly growled.
"Well then, how?!" I just about screamed. The neighbor's dogs started barking. The birds in the bush next to me woke up and started singing.
"I've been carrying this thing around for almost a month. My family thinks I am insane, and frankly dear sir, I do believe I am close to the edge myself."
" I know this has been a trial for you, my sweet girl. But it will only be a few more minutes until you are free of the seed."
I don't know why, but I started to cry. Not just little tears, but gut wrenching sobs. Yet, I made no sound. Noiselessly the tears flowed from my eyes watering the fresh turned soil.
"Okay, now level it off, and replace the grass on top."Hiccuping, sniffling and snorting, I replaced the grass.
"Go in, wash up and go back to bed. You will feel better in the morning."
Spring turned to Summer into Fall.
My berry vines produced the sweetest fruits they ever had. Even if we picked all of the berries, within days they would flower again and produce another batch, much sweeter than the ones before.We had so much, that I had to take up canning. My pantry was stocked with jams, jellies and berry sauces.
I watched that little patch of earth for any signs of change. Looking, watching, waiting for something to happen. Anything. Hoping that the seed would start to grow.
Towards the end of October, I noticed a little green shoot, poking it's head above the grass. Excitement built up in me. Hope, I had hope that the seed I had nurtured next to my heart for hours, and days on end was finally starting to grow.
With October came the frosts. I was in fear that the little tender shoot would get damaged, maybe even killed by the icy temperatures. One morning after a very heavy frost, I ventured outside to check on the shoot. To my amazement, the ground around the shoot was thawed. There wasn't any frost within six inches of my little plant. I reached down to touch it. Instantly my hand was warmed. It was still giving off heat, just as it had when I carried it next to my heart!
Throughout the winter my little seed continued to thrive, and grow. By March it resembled a little tree.
It was then that I noticed copper and green colored buds. Within days of the buds appearing the copper ones started to look like pennies, and the green ones like normal leaves. By the end of the week, my little tree was covered in pennies. I picked one, checked the date, it was from1983! I picked another. A Wheat Back from 1914.
I took it to a coin collector that I know. He took one look at it and said, "Do you realize what you have here?"
"A Wheat Back?"
"A Wheat Back???!!! This is not just any Wheat Back. It's a 1914 - D!" His hands started to shake, his voice crack. "This Wheat Back is worth over one million dollars!"
"One million dollars?" I cried out.
"Yes, one million."
"Holy smokes. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Are you willing to sell? As soon as we have it authenticated, we can look for a buyer."
I picked up the penny, "I'm holding one million dollars in my hand. How can that be?" I thought to myself.
No sure what to think, the saying "If it's too good to be true, it's probably not," kept running through my head.
"Let me take it home, and think about it. I'll get back in touch with you in a few days."
Back at the house, I went out to my penny tree.
"How can this be? How do these pennies get here?" I realized I had spoken out loud when my husband asked, "What pennies?"
"Come take a look at this tree."
He wandered over.
"What is this?"
"Remember the seed the old man gave me? This is what it turned out to be. Some type of money tree."
He laughed at me, "Someone sure has a lot of free time on her hands," he said with a smile.
"How long did it take you to glue all of these on?"
"I didn't glue them on!" I could feel my face flush with anger. All the days of teasing he heaped on, just one more to add insult to injury.
"I will prove to you that this is the real deal." I plucked all of the pennies off the tree and took them in the house.
Checking each one over carefully I decided they must be real. Some were new, others were old and worn. But how had they come to grow out of my little tree?
I thought about it long and hard, trying to figure out the whys and hows of it all.
I went to bed with pennies on my brain. Tossing and turning all night, I finally got up about 5AM.
I went out to check on the tree. Sure enough there was another bunch of pennies.
From behind me my husband whispered in awe, "Oh my. There are more. Where do they come from?"
"That is what I'm trying to figure out. I think I am going to do a little test."
Back in the house I took a bottle of nail polish, and put a dot on a hundred pennies, wrote down what years they were and where they were minted.
That day I had my husband scatter them throughout our town.
The next morning we were back by our tree. It seemed several of the pennies he had "lost" had found their way back to our little tree.
"So they are real," I said in amazement. "Maybe this is a lost penny tree."
"I'm not sure what it is, or how it works, but I like it!" He replied.
We harvested pennies for the next week, and discussed what we were going to do with the 1914 one.
We decided to insure it, and put it in a safe deposit box at the bank the next day when we went to exchange all of the pennies we had harvested.
I finally had enough money to get a bicycle with a hitch to tow my fishing gear, plus a cooler, down to the lake.
That night we talked of all the things we could do with the money if we sold the 1914.
What charities we would donate to, when he would retire and how much we'd put away for college for the children.
The next morning I went out to check on the tree. As I walked closer to it, I noticed it looked silver. There were nickles!
I ran into the house to get my husband, dragging him across the lawn all I could say was, "Look, look, look! Nickles!"
He rubbed his eyes.
"Nickles?"
"Yes, nickles!" I said with a smile.
And so it went. First pennies, then nickles, after that, quarters. Ever week a different denomination would appear. Half dollars, Susan B Anthony dollars, silver dollars, Sacajaweas and the golden president dollars all grew on our tiny money tree.
We were able to bank a lot of it, while paying off our bills.
My husband still went to work every day, and the 1914 penny still sat in the vault in the bank.
I went fishing down by the lake many times, always bringing an extra pole, and more than enough bottles of water hoping that the old man would show up again. Leaving a little sad when he didn't. I wanted to thank him for the seed, for helping us, for being an ear when I needed someone to listen.
It was always in the back of my mind that this would not last forever, as the saying goes, "All good things must come to an end," and end it did.
One early fall morning I went out to the tree. Stunned, I stood there a looked where my little money tree had been. All that was left of it were shriveled up green leaves. I touched the ground where it had grown. It was cold and hard.
I began to dig with my hands, fingernails breaking off in the dirt. I got up and ran to the garage for my trowel.
Back down on my hands and knees, I slowly cleared the dirt away. As I got down to the potting soil, I started using my hands again, sifting through the dirt with my fingers. Finally I felt a hard lump. After pulling it out, I cleared the dirt off of it. In my hand I held the silver dollar looking seed.
Clutching the seed to my heart I went back into the house.
My husband was watching TV. I slowly held out my hand.
"I guess that means it's over. What do you do with it now?""
"I do believe you are right. I'm not sure what I am supposed to do with it. The old man never told me. I think I'll go down to the lake and drown some worms while I think about it."
Slipping the seed into my pocket, I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
"Don't be gone too long."
"I wont."
As I rode my bike down to the lake, fishing gear and cooler in tow, I thought about all of the blessings I still had in my life, "I have a husband who loves me, children I adore. Friends I can count on, and a roof over my head."
Looking up towards Heaven I said, "Thank you, Lord for all you have given me."
Pulling up to my tree, I noticed a woman sitting there crying. I was about to turn around and leave when she saw me.
"Please don't leave on my account. I was just sitting here throwing a little pity party for myself."
I pulled out the cooler, sat it down next to her and asked, "Do you mind if I join you?"
She shook her head "no" while drying her tears.
I gathered up my fishing gear, then came and sat down next to her.
I pulled out my old pink pole, topped with the blue tape and started to put a worm on my hook.
As I cast out, I offered her my other pole to use.
"No thank you. I don't fish."
"Would you like a bottle of water?"
"Yes, please."
We sat for a while in comfortable silence, when I noticed her looking at my pole.
"Yeah, I know it's kind of ugly. But, it gets the job done."
" No, that's not it. Your pole looks like one my son told me about last year. Were you the one who helped him catch his first fish?"
"That would be me," I said with a smile.
"Thank you so very much for that."
We talked while I fished, and she watched.
The seed in my pocket started to grow warm.
She told me of how her husband had taken off when her son was just two years old. How he had never paid one cent in child support, and she worked two jobs just to make ends meet.
I could feel the seed plumping up in my pocket.
I reached in and pulled it out. When I did, it returned to it's silver dollar shape.
"Give me your hand, please."
I looked at him, then at my gear, then back to him. Before I could stop them, the words popped out of my mouth, "Uh, no. I just like toting this stuff around the neighborhood. Makes people wonder what I'm up to."
"Well now," he chuckled, "I hope you catch 'The Big One' " "Thank you sir," I said with a smile. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your day."
"I will, young lady. You do the same."
"Sure will, thank you."
Walking away, I turned back to give him a little wave. He was already back to work on his fingernails and didn't see me.
Finding a shady spot by the side of the lake, I looked around and took note of what a truly beautiful day it was turning out to be. The sky was as blue as a robin's egg with big cotton ball clouds.
A slight breeze blew in from the west bringing with it the scent of sage and willow trees. I looked up, "Gramps, looks like it's a perfect day for fishing. Thank you Lord for this day."
I always talk to Gramps and God while I'm fishing. It makes me not miss him so much, and settles a feeling of peace and serenity within my soul.
I baited my hook, cast my line out, leaned back against the tree, and opened my book.
I hadn't been reading long when the hair on the back of my neck started to rise. I felt as if I was being watched. I shivered, took a quick look around.
Seeing no one, I slowly reached for the buck knife in my tackle box.
"You won't be needing that knife, missy," the old man said, with humor in his voice as he came around the tree. "I don't bite."
He smile to reveal a toothless mouth.
I grinned right back at him, "Why don't you pull up a patch of grass, and have a seat? You can use my extra pole if you'd like."
"Why two poles if there's only one of you fishing?"
Shrugging my shoulders, "I like to be prepared. I have a habit of breaking things," I said as I glanced at the tip of my favorite pink pole. "Oh, I see. The blue tape is a nice touch."
With our lines in the water, we sat chatting about fishing, our children, our spouses, and life in general.
We talked about the economy, and how my family was trying to get out of debt. But with building medical debt, and rising gas prices it took all we had to make it from paycheck to paycheck. It seemed the harder we worked, the more debt we accumulated. I was almost in tears, when he laid his hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry my child, God sees how you are struggling, and He would never give you a load that is to heavy to bear. I have a feeling you will be fine."
"Thank you, Sir. I am sorry for unloading on you like this."
"Nonsense. Sometimes it does a soul good to talk things out."
With all of that talking, I was getting mighty thirsty.
"Would you care for a water? I brought two."
"Being prepared again?"
"I guess you could say that. One is half frozen, the other not. Since I don't have an extra hand to carry a cooler I like to have the frozen one with, just in case I want to stay here for a bit."
"You can have the one with the ice if you'd like."
"Thank you. It is so nice that you are so kind to such an old man."
Looking out over the lake, we sat in silence as we drank. He had a pensive look in his eyes, as he turned to me.
Setting his water down, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an object roughly the color and shape of a silver dollar.
Looking into my eyes, he took my hand in both of his, and placed the object in my palm, closing my fingers around it. It was then that I noticed his eyes were as blue as the sky, when before I could have sworn they were brown.
He gave my hand a slight squeeze and said, "With this seed, you shall be blessed."
He lifted my hand, and kissed the top of my fingers. I pulled back, just a little creeped out by his actions, not knowing what to say or do.
Looking down at my closed hand the, object/seed started to grow warm, and change shape. A sense of peace and well being seemed to spread outward from it. Through my hand, up my arm, seeping into my blood, flooding my body with feelings of comfort. "Kind of like coming home after a long trip," I thought to myself.
Taking my hand in both of his again, the old man said, "This will provide for your every need."
I opened my hand to study the seed with my eyes and fingers.
It had a slight bulge in the middle where it had once been flat. It was smooth, but yet had the feel of an egg shell.
I brought it to my nose to smell it. It gave off no odor.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It is a seed," he replied. "Carry it close to your heart."
I slipped it into my t-shirt pocket. All of a sudden I started to feel sleepy. I wanted to curl up like a kitten in the sunshine, and take a nap.
Yawning I said, "Oh, excuse me. I don't know what has come over me. All I can think about is taking a nap."
As I leaned back against the tree, I could feel my eye lids growing heavy. "You should be scared. You should gather up your things and leave. You should get up. GET UP!!! GET UP!!! GET UP!!! You should get out of here, now!" My mind screamed, but my body would not obey.
I looked over at the old man, mumbling as my speech became slurred, "Brown....Your eyes....they.....are.... brown...."
My eyes would not stay open. I started to drift off into sleep.
I could feel the old man leaning close to me. I could smell him. He smelled like camping. Wood smoke, mixed with sunshine and sage. He smelled like my Gramps.
I felt like I was being wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket, as the breeze kissed my cheeks. I could feel he was going. I tried to open my eyes, but just ended up burrowing deeper in the blanket.
"Keep the seed close to your heart during the day, my sweet girl. At night sleep with it under your pillow. When the Strawberry Moon arrives plant it between your raspberry and blackberry vines." "How....how did you know.... about my vines?"
"Remember to wait for the Strawberry Moon. With my help, you will know what to do." His words seemed to come on the whisper of the wind. Like a breath in my ear.
Poke....poke....poke... I tried to slap the sensation away...poke...poke...poke...More insistent now.
Muzzy headed, I struggled to open my eyes.
"Hey! Hey lady! Hey!!!" poke...poke..poke...
"Hey hey hey hey hey." poke poke poke poke poke.
With a crick in my neck, I opened my eyes just in time to see a stick coming dangerously close to my nose, but meeting with my shoulder instead. poke..
"Quit it!" I croaked out as I grabbed the stick.
A little boy, about six years old, jumped back with a shriek.
"Oh my goodness lady! I thought you were dead! You've got a fish on your line."
I handed the boy my pole, "Here, you reel it in."
"REALLY!" He exclaimed, "I ain't never caught a fish before."
I struggled to shake off the sleepies, as the boy struggled to reel in the fish. Stretching, I looked around. "Hmmmm...That's odd." I thought, "No blanket. The water bottle hasn't been opened. What is going on?""Hey kid."
"Yeah?"
"Did you see an old man hanging around here?"
"Nope."
"Are you sure?"
"Yep.""You didn't see anyone sitting by me?"
"Nope. All I seen was you, and you was dead."
"Hmmmmm. Must have been a dream," I said to myself.
"I most certainly am not dead, mister," I said to the boy.
"Well I thought you was."
"Well, I'm not. Do you need help?"
"No. I can get this," he grunted as he struggled with the fish.
The boy was reeling his little heart out, and it tickled me to see him trying to land "his" fish.
Finally he pulled the fish up onto shore. Dancing with glee, he started singing, "I caught a fish. I caught a fish. All by myself, I caught a fish."
With delight on his face, he asked me, "Did you see that? I did it all by myself. Wait until I tell my mom I caught a fish."
"What about your dad? Don't you want to tell him?"
"I don't got a dad. He went away when I was little. But mom says we do just fine without him," he said, followed by a heavy sigh.
My heart breaking for him, I tousled his hair.
He looked up at me with big eyes and whispered, "that fish is really big, isn't he?"
"He sure is."
Smiling at his unbridled joy, I asked him if he'd like to keep the fish.
"I don't have a fish bowl big enough to keep him in," he pouted.
"Well then, let's get it off that hook, and back in the water."
"Okay. Thanks lady. That was a lot of fun!"
After releasing the fish, the boy took off at a run. He had to get home "real quick" to tell his mom.
As I gathered up my belongings thinking about the boy and his fish, a warm feeling began to spread across the left side of my chest. In all of our excitement, I had forgotten about the seed.
Sticking my hand in my pocket, I said, "How could it have been a dream if I still have this?"
Quickly I glanced around to make sure there was no one around to overhear me talking to myself. I felt crazy enough, as it was, talking to myself while taking a seed out of my pocket that was given to me by someone who was never there.
I could tell by the way it felt that it had changed while I was asleep. When I took it out, I held it up to the light, "How odd is that?" Not only had the seed grown more plump, it had also changed colors. It had gone from silver to pink in the time I had been asleep.
Walking home with the seed in my pocket above my heart, I thought about the old man's whispered words.
"Strawberry Moon," I mumbled.
"Between the vines," I shook my head.
When I got home, I Googled Strawberry Moon. I found out that the full moon in the month of June is called a "Strawberry Moon". According to the 2011 Farmers Almanac, the Strawberry Moon was named by the Algonquin Tribe. They call it that because June is the month for harvesting strawberries.
"So for one month I have to keep this thing close to my heart during the day, and under my pillow at night.Hmmph...." I said while holding it in my palm. It started to grow warm again. I felt a little put out by the fact that I was going to have to wear pocket tees or dress shirts with a pocket for a month. As my feelings became negative, the seed started to cool. The color fading back to silver, it started to shrivel.
"Okay, okay, " I said to the seed. "I'll keep you close to my heart." I plopped it back in my pocket.
"Dear Lord," I said to myself, "now, I've really lost it. Not only am I talking to myself I'm talking to a seed. Oh my!"
During that month, the seed continued to give off a pleasant heat and darken in color. I tried countless times to take a picture of it to post online, to see if anyone could help me identify it. In the photos it looked like a silver dollar slug.
Any time I took it out to show anyone, it would revert to it's original shape and size. Plumping back up a soon as I put it back in my pocket.
My husband thought I was nuts, as well as my children and friends. In fact, I believe even I was questioning my own sanity. I finally stopped talking about the seed as May came to a close.
Two more weeks, and I would plant the thing, just to be rid of it.
The night of the Strawberry Moon had finally arrived. I waited until everyone had fallen asleep.
I took the seed from under my pillow, quietly slipped on my slippers and snuck out the door. I picked up my trowel, and some potting soil from the garage.
I quietly opened the gate, and went into the yard. As I made my way to my raspberry and blackberry vines I notice how light it was in the yard. The moon was so bright it looked like it was early dawn.
I quickly got down on my knees and started to dig. I dug until I thought I heard the old man say, "That's deep enough." The hole was about a foot deep. Again, the old man voice came to me, "Now dump in some potting soil." I started to fill the hole with potting soil.
"Not so much!" His voice seemed to be riding on the wind. Just as it had when I started to doze off by the lake side.
"Now put the seed in."
"Good. Cover it up with the original dirt from the hole." I covered it up making a small mound.
"No, no, no. Not like that!" The voice nearly growled.
"Well then, how?!" I just about screamed. The neighbor's dogs started barking. The birds in the bush next to me woke up and started singing.
"I've been carrying this thing around for almost a month. My family thinks I am insane, and frankly dear sir, I do believe I am close to the edge myself."
" I know this has been a trial for you, my sweet girl. But it will only be a few more minutes until you are free of the seed."
I don't know why, but I started to cry. Not just little tears, but gut wrenching sobs. Yet, I made no sound. Noiselessly the tears flowed from my eyes watering the fresh turned soil.
"Okay, now level it off, and replace the grass on top."Hiccuping, sniffling and snorting, I replaced the grass.
"Go in, wash up and go back to bed. You will feel better in the morning."
Spring turned to Summer into Fall.
My berry vines produced the sweetest fruits they ever had. Even if we picked all of the berries, within days they would flower again and produce another batch, much sweeter than the ones before.We had so much, that I had to take up canning. My pantry was stocked with jams, jellies and berry sauces.
I watched that little patch of earth for any signs of change. Looking, watching, waiting for something to happen. Anything. Hoping that the seed would start to grow.
Towards the end of October, I noticed a little green shoot, poking it's head above the grass. Excitement built up in me. Hope, I had hope that the seed I had nurtured next to my heart for hours, and days on end was finally starting to grow.
With October came the frosts. I was in fear that the little tender shoot would get damaged, maybe even killed by the icy temperatures. One morning after a very heavy frost, I ventured outside to check on the shoot. To my amazement, the ground around the shoot was thawed. There wasn't any frost within six inches of my little plant. I reached down to touch it. Instantly my hand was warmed. It was still giving off heat, just as it had when I carried it next to my heart!
Throughout the winter my little seed continued to thrive, and grow. By March it resembled a little tree.
It was then that I noticed copper and green colored buds. Within days of the buds appearing the copper ones started to look like pennies, and the green ones like normal leaves. By the end of the week, my little tree was covered in pennies. I picked one, checked the date, it was from1983! I picked another. A Wheat Back from 1914.
I took it to a coin collector that I know. He took one look at it and said, "Do you realize what you have here?"
"A Wheat Back?"
"A Wheat Back???!!! This is not just any Wheat Back. It's a 1914 - D!" His hands started to shake, his voice crack. "This Wheat Back is worth over one million dollars!"
"One million dollars?" I cried out.
"Yes, one million."
"Holy smokes. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Are you willing to sell? As soon as we have it authenticated, we can look for a buyer."
I picked up the penny, "I'm holding one million dollars in my hand. How can that be?" I thought to myself.
No sure what to think, the saying "If it's too good to be true, it's probably not," kept running through my head.
"Let me take it home, and think about it. I'll get back in touch with you in a few days."
Back at the house, I went out to my penny tree.
"How can this be? How do these pennies get here?" I realized I had spoken out loud when my husband asked, "What pennies?"
"Come take a look at this tree."
He wandered over.
"What is this?"
"Remember the seed the old man gave me? This is what it turned out to be. Some type of money tree."
He laughed at me, "Someone sure has a lot of free time on her hands," he said with a smile.
"How long did it take you to glue all of these on?"
"I didn't glue them on!" I could feel my face flush with anger. All the days of teasing he heaped on, just one more to add insult to injury.
"I will prove to you that this is the real deal." I plucked all of the pennies off the tree and took them in the house.
Checking each one over carefully I decided they must be real. Some were new, others were old and worn. But how had they come to grow out of my little tree?
I thought about it long and hard, trying to figure out the whys and hows of it all.
I went to bed with pennies on my brain. Tossing and turning all night, I finally got up about 5AM.
I went out to check on the tree. Sure enough there was another bunch of pennies.
From behind me my husband whispered in awe, "Oh my. There are more. Where do they come from?"
"That is what I'm trying to figure out. I think I am going to do a little test."
Back in the house I took a bottle of nail polish, and put a dot on a hundred pennies, wrote down what years they were and where they were minted.
That day I had my husband scatter them throughout our town.
The next morning we were back by our tree. It seemed several of the pennies he had "lost" had found their way back to our little tree.
"So they are real," I said in amazement. "Maybe this is a lost penny tree."
"I'm not sure what it is, or how it works, but I like it!" He replied.
We harvested pennies for the next week, and discussed what we were going to do with the 1914 one.
We decided to insure it, and put it in a safe deposit box at the bank the next day when we went to exchange all of the pennies we had harvested.
I finally had enough money to get a bicycle with a hitch to tow my fishing gear, plus a cooler, down to the lake.
That night we talked of all the things we could do with the money if we sold the 1914.
What charities we would donate to, when he would retire and how much we'd put away for college for the children.
The next morning I went out to check on the tree. As I walked closer to it, I noticed it looked silver. There were nickles!
I ran into the house to get my husband, dragging him across the lawn all I could say was, "Look, look, look! Nickles!"
He rubbed his eyes.
"Nickles?"
"Yes, nickles!" I said with a smile.
And so it went. First pennies, then nickles, after that, quarters. Ever week a different denomination would appear. Half dollars, Susan B Anthony dollars, silver dollars, Sacajaweas and the golden president dollars all grew on our tiny money tree.
We were able to bank a lot of it, while paying off our bills.
My husband still went to work every day, and the 1914 penny still sat in the vault in the bank.
I went fishing down by the lake many times, always bringing an extra pole, and more than enough bottles of water hoping that the old man would show up again. Leaving a little sad when he didn't. I wanted to thank him for the seed, for helping us, for being an ear when I needed someone to listen.
It was always in the back of my mind that this would not last forever, as the saying goes, "All good things must come to an end," and end it did.
One early fall morning I went out to the tree. Stunned, I stood there a looked where my little money tree had been. All that was left of it were shriveled up green leaves. I touched the ground where it had grown. It was cold and hard.
I began to dig with my hands, fingernails breaking off in the dirt. I got up and ran to the garage for my trowel.
Back down on my hands and knees, I slowly cleared the dirt away. As I got down to the potting soil, I started using my hands again, sifting through the dirt with my fingers. Finally I felt a hard lump. After pulling it out, I cleared the dirt off of it. In my hand I held the silver dollar looking seed.
Clutching the seed to my heart I went back into the house.
My husband was watching TV. I slowly held out my hand.
"I guess that means it's over. What do you do with it now?""
"I do believe you are right. I'm not sure what I am supposed to do with it. The old man never told me. I think I'll go down to the lake and drown some worms while I think about it."
Slipping the seed into my pocket, I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
"Don't be gone too long."
"I wont."
As I rode my bike down to the lake, fishing gear and cooler in tow, I thought about all of the blessings I still had in my life, "I have a husband who loves me, children I adore. Friends I can count on, and a roof over my head."
Looking up towards Heaven I said, "Thank you, Lord for all you have given me."
Pulling up to my tree, I noticed a woman sitting there crying. I was about to turn around and leave when she saw me.
"Please don't leave on my account. I was just sitting here throwing a little pity party for myself."
I pulled out the cooler, sat it down next to her and asked, "Do you mind if I join you?"
She shook her head "no" while drying her tears.
I gathered up my fishing gear, then came and sat down next to her.
I pulled out my old pink pole, topped with the blue tape and started to put a worm on my hook.
As I cast out, I offered her my other pole to use.
"No thank you. I don't fish."
"Would you like a bottle of water?"
"Yes, please."
We sat for a while in comfortable silence, when I noticed her looking at my pole.
"Yeah, I know it's kind of ugly. But, it gets the job done."
" No, that's not it. Your pole looks like one my son told me about last year. Were you the one who helped him catch his first fish?"
"That would be me," I said with a smile.
"Thank you so very much for that."
We talked while I fished, and she watched.
The seed in my pocket started to grow warm.
She told me of how her husband had taken off when her son was just two years old. How he had never paid one cent in child support, and she worked two jobs just to make ends meet.
I could feel the seed plumping up in my pocket.
I reached in and pulled it out. When I did, it returned to it's silver dollar shape.
"Give me your hand, please."
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