The garden grows wild without tending; how tall the herbs have grown. Oh Lord, I have missed this. The fragrance, the soil, the sun on my face; how glorious it is to be alive. Never again will I take my freedom for granted.
Elana busied herself with the cutting of the tender shoots, placing them in a large willow basket. Carefully she trimmed the rosemary, the aromatic scent filling her nostrils with each cut of the blade. She paused, allowing the fragrance to soothe her. The thorny raspberry canes had grown wild and she moved cautiously to the left avoiding the sharp thorns. Her hands rested for a moment on the warm brown earth connecting to all that is nature. Memories of a cold, lonely cell filled her mind. Suddenly, the smell of mildew and stale urine assaulted her senses and fear gripped her heart. Stop, I will not remember those days. I will not. She looked up to the sky shaking her head as if to empty it of thought. Her fingers lifted the brown earth to her nose and she inhaled the earthy smell of herbs and peat before resuming her chores. Picking up a large stick, she loosened the soil removing any small rocks that appeared from below the hard crust. Crushing an oval mint leaf between her fingers she inhaled the delicate scent of mint and earth. The herbal scents of the garden seemed to permeate her very soul as she toiled lovingly. Kneeling in the garden connecting to the God of nature, she felt humble and peaceful. Basil, thyme, sage and lavender quickly filled her basket as the morning hours drifted away and soon her garden was restored to its former order. She leaned wearily against the cool stonewall, admiring her handiwork. A soil covered hand pushed the long, auburn hair back from her face, leaving dark streaks against the perspiring, alabaster skin. The faint bleating of the sheep could be heard in the distance. I must go and see the new lambs before I go to the cliffs, she thought to herself as she lifted the overflowing basket. Elana made her way down the path to the stone cottage with the thatched roof.
The melodic sound of singing filled her ears as she approached and she stopped to listen. As sweet as the bird’s song are the sounds from your lips; you are happy at last, my sister. Stopping at the well, she slowly turned the crank and watched as the bucket of cold fresh water made its way to the top. Unhooking the wooden vessel, she set it on the ground and washed her hands and face, drying them on her apron. Water splashed on her long wool skirt. She casually brushed the drops away. Two small wrens began to twitter on the rhododendron bush as if joining her sister in song. A smile graced Elana’s face and her eyes sparkled with happiness as she lifted the iron latch on the large oak door. It had been a long time since she had heard any sound of joy from Mary Margaret, a long time indeed.
The inside of the tiny cottage could only be described as spotless. A huge hearth filled the far wall, the flames flickering under a cast iron pot. A colorful tied rag rug lay on the plank floor in front of the fire between two wooden rocking chairs. The aroma of lamb, vegetables and mint filled the small area making it a most welcome setting.
To the left a tall, thin woman with flowing, dark hair, lightly streaked with gray, was setting the long wooden table. She wore a simple, but elegant blue dress and white apron. A starched white linen cloth covered the table. The lace trim had been lovingly repaired in places; the material grew thin with age. The fine china plates were out of place in the tiny cottage, but the gentleness of the hands that placed them on the table, reflected a refinement and grace befitting the elegant dinnerware. The woman turned and smiled at Elana. “I see you have been taking care of that overgrown mess, at long last. We shall add some rosemary to the stew, because it is almost ready.” Elana noticed the far away yearning in the other woman’s face, as she turned back to the table, her fingers caressing the tiny rosebuds on the white china plate just a second longer than necessary. You will never forget those days long ago; he haunts you still my sister.
Many times Elana had been tempted to smash the china into a thousand pieces, seeing them only as a constant reminder of a painful past. But she knew in her heart how important those memories were to Mary Margaret, memories of pain and terror, but also memories of a sweeter time when love filled her heart. No, Elana would never do anything to hurt her sister; they had both experienced enough pain and agony for a lifetime. Wanting to create a distraction, she began discussing her plans for the garden. “I think I shall plant roses next to the path. It will add color and enhance the entrance to the cottage. Yes, yellow roses to brighten our days.” Mary Margaret smiled at her sister. She knew that Elana was trying to distract her and she loved her for it.
“Personally, I prefer pink roses, but plant whatever you like. I take care of the cottage and the garden is your responsibility. Unless of course, you would like to sweep the floor and empty the hearth.” She laughed at the thought of Elana doing anything domestic. How wonderful to have you back in my life, Elana. Her sister’s laughter mingled with hers and the cottage was filled with tinkling joy and a sense of deep and enduring love that only two women who have been to Hell and back can share.
Elana made her way to the cliffs early the next morning. Keeping the promise to herself, she stopped to watch the tiny lambs in the field. Small white balls of fluff leapt and played together. Faint bleating could be heard as their mothers tried to keep some semblance of order.
The carefree lambs ignored them, tumbling and leaping over each other. The scene made her smile. Making her way up the gentle slope, following the narrow path worn by sheep’s hooves, she arrived at the rocky cliffs. The sun was just beginning to appear over the dark blue sea and an eerie mist covered most of the hills. Illuminated colors dotted the hillside, a symphony of purple, green, brown and yellow, magically mingling with the gray mist. Elana paused to appreciate the beauty of the morning. The bleating of the sheep could be heard in the distance. The gulls swooped and glided on the air currents as their cries blended with the sheep in a strange symphony of nature. Elana sat on the grass near the edge. Her hand moved in the dewy blades of grass beside her. How I miss you Daniel. We would sit here for hours watching the gulls and the fishing boats, planning our life together. Much has happened since that day on the dock when our lips touched for the last time, my darling. Her eyes instinctively searched the horizon for any sign of a ship. I know you will come back to me one day, my love.
Daniel Dryfess had been gone to sea for more than three years. Daniel’s adventuresome spirit drove his desire to explore the world. Signing on as a sailor was his way of fulfilling his dreams. If only he had taken her with him, but of course it had been impossible. Elana understood, but she missed him terribly and wanted him to come home. It had been months since she had a letter from him. Where are you my love?