30 Spring Planting

Clare and Dante

 

At last, midway through March, the cold fingers of winter were pried loose and sunny, warmer weather heartened the budding gardeners. By the third cloudless day the beds were dry enough to start the early plantings: cole crops such as cauliflower, cabbage, broccoli, and kale, and other cool weather plants like peas, lettuce, carrots, and the onion starts. With most of the class working together, it didn ’ t take long to plant the seeds.

Clare was disappointed she had only gotten to help with a few kinds; she wanted to gain as much experience as possible. Dante, however, managed to run around to all of the beds and peek at the seeds, excited at how large or small or round they were. He charmed the adults, who let him put a few seeds in the soil before he dashed off to the next bed.

Clare, meanwhile, stayed put, dutifully poking their onion transplants into the ground . She inhaled deeply, smelling the rich, moist soil. Until her life in Canada, Clare had never realized soil had a scent. It was intoxicating. One of the teachers told the class it was a scientific fact that fumes from good fresh soil—caused by microbes— ha d an effect like antidepressant pills. That working the soil makes you feel energetic and happy. Clare wondered what that meant for a country whose citizenry had been deprived of the opportunity to dig in the dirt.

After everything was planted the students spent the remainder of the day weeding the perennial beds and berry patches where the ground had grown lusciously green. “ I feel kind of bad pulling out these weeds knowing that some of them are eatable, ” Dante said.

“ The word is edible ,” Clare corrected.

“ Why? ” he asked. “ I like eatable better. ”

Clare smiled. She had no answer.

Pulling weeds was hard work, but for the kids the difficulty came more in the monotony than anything else. Their smaller stature, energy, and flexible joints allowed them to upturn the unwanted plants with relative ease, while the grownups often groaned, standing and stretching, or taking multiple and lengthy breaks.

By the end of the day, though, Clare and Dante were tired—a good worn-out physical tiredness. Marissa had suspected they would be and greeted them in a kitchen warm with the fragrance of freshly baked cookies.

“ Cookies! ” Dante yelled as he smelled and spied the soft cookies cooling on the rack.

“ Thought you might like some cookies with milk, ” Marissa said.

He helped himself to the cookies and poured a glass of milk. “ I’ m never going back, ” he said offhandedly as he stuffed a morsel into his mouth.

Clare’ s heart skipped a beat. “ Of course we ’ re going back, ” she said.

“ I know. Mama misses us. ”

“ That ’ s right, ” she said. She knew there was more to say but decided to let it end there. For now, anyway. He probably hadn ’ t meant it. It had slipped out in his a nticipation and excitement over the milk and cookies. And yet . . . wasn ’ t this sometimes when people spoke what they really thought—those careless moments of joy or heartbreak? Clare tucked his sentiment carefully away. She would take it out and look at it later when no one else was around.