Tag Archive: conflict


Morning Glories

The following isn’t an entertaining story, it’s a rant cleverly (~cough~) disguised as a story.

Morning glories starting to climb the trellis on my back porch.

Morning glories starting to climb the trellis on my back porch.

Holly looked up and around. Three hundred and sixty degrees over her head, the long-awaited community gardens were finally prepped and made available to the station’s citizens. She’d paid for her plot almost a year before, and it wasn’t cheap. Sure, she could grow a few things in her quarters… the lights were designed for photosynthesis and water was no longer a problem thanks to the Bertea-Reichower mission. But the little four meter by four meter plot would let her indulge her horticultural creativity, as well as let her meet up with like-minded friends to spend a peaceful afternoon amidst nature’s splendor.

“What are you planting on the corner trellis?” asked Dotty, who had the plot just spinward of Holly’s.

“Morning glories!” she said happily. She’d planted them in her incubator a month ago, in anticipation of the opening of the garden. The corner trellis would make a perfect backdrop for the small bench she wanted to get.

“Bindweed!” Dotty said, her floppy hat falling off as she suddenly stood up straight. “You’re planting bindweed?”

“Bindweed?” Holly shook her head. She hadn’t heard the term. She chose morning glories because they were pretty and hardy; they could survive almost anything. If the carefully constructed mix of soil on the space station was less-than ideal, the flowering vine would probably still survive. “Doesn’t that violate the rule about non-invasive plants? Or something like that… I don’t remember what the exact wording was.”

Holly blinked, looking at the tiny seedlings she’d brought with her. “Invasive? Morning glories?”

Dotty came and knelt by her, the two of them in the dirt together. Holly opened her link. “Let’s see…” she said, going to the information site about the community garden. Dotty looked over her shoulder. “Is this it?” she asked. “Gardeners shall not plant any species that will threaten or invade other plots…” The paragraph dissolved into legalese after that.

“Search for the word ‘invasive’,” Dotty suggested. More rules popped up, all of which she’d read. She didn’t think the morning glories were invasive, but then again she’d never heard them described as ‘bindweed’ before.

“Oh, see there?” Dotty pointed out a paragraph. “If you’re vigilant about making sure the seed pods are collected and don’t plant too close to the border, you’ll be all right.” They both looked up at the corner trellis. “It’s not too late to move it to the middle.”

Holly had already bought a garden-bot to collect all the seeds from not just the morning glories, but her other flowers as well. She hoped to be able to trade seeds with her neighbors or donate some to the colony ship that would be leaving next year for a new world. She could move the vines to the middle, since the roots tended to grow deep and tenacious. Or, to save herself any trouble, she could rearrange some things in her quarters and just enjoy them there where she wouldn’t have to worry about whether any seed pods escaped to invade her neighbor’s gardens.

“If you use a flexible trellis you could—”

Dotty’s comment was cut off by a bark from a woman passing by pulling a small wagon with seedlings. “Those aren’t bindweed, are they?” She asked, squeaking out the plant name as if it was a curse. Holly’s jaw moved, but no sound came out. She had no idea what to say.

The woman grabbed one of the tiny sprouts and examined it. Holly caught her breath. The seeds, as tiny as they were, hadn’t exactly been expensive to import from Earth. But they weren’t cheap, either. Not only the expense, but the care she’d put into making sure they sprouted. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She threw the bit of greenery and dirt onto the path that separated the garden plots.

Holly gasped and lunged after the innocent plant, cradling it and checking to see whether the stem had broken.

“Well, there’s no need to destroy someone else’s property!” Dotty said with a huff.

“What’s going on here?” asked Dan, one of the groundskeepers.

“This woman vandalized Holly’s garden!” Dotty said, her tone accusing.

“I did no such thing! She left these weeds sitting on the path. And she seems to be completely oblivious to the dangers such things pose to the entire ecosystem.”

Dan squatted down to look at the tray of seedlings. Holly realized with a lump of guilt that the small tray was half on the path. It wasn’t exactly an impediment to foot traffic, but it was still impolite. “Ipomoea purpurea,” he said, examining the plants. “A bold choice. Hardy.” He looked directly at the invasive woman. “And perfectly legal as long as the gardener is responsible about collecting the seed pods.”

“Responsible?” the woman sneered. “Flower fairies like her shouldn’t be allowed in the community garden. Some of us are planting useful things like fruits and vegetables. My gourds can be used for—”

“I’ll tell you what you can do with your gourds!” Dan held Holly’s hands as she cradled the tiny, broken seedling. “She’s done absolutely nothing wrong.”

Holly cringed. She’d just been about to plant the prolificly-seeding plants at the very edge of her plot. It was a mistake…it would have been a mistake if Dotty hadn’t pointed out to her the rule she’d overlooked.

“Deliberate destruction of property, however, is grounds for arrest.”

Holly reached out and rescued her tray of morning glory seedlings as Dan and the offending woman started yelling at each other. Soon a small crowd had gathered, voices shouting, the occasional slur or questionable accusation punctuating the chaos. Dotty, who had been about to dive into the fray, turned to look at her.

Dotty’s face was red, but when Holly looked up Dotty softened, then she moved between Holly and the crowd. As quickly as she could, Holly put the few trays of seedlings into her crate, stowing the tools in their compartments. There was a shattering sound, and they both turned to see a clay pot from the offending woman’s cart broken on the path, the tomato plant it carried snapped off at the base.

The crowd started yelling even louder.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get out of here while we still can,” Dotty said, a hand on Holly’s back. The crowd had spilled from the path, some of them trampling the carefully cultivated rows Dotty had been working on. “Never mind that. I put those seeds in just an hour ago. They’ll survive.” She sighed and shook her head. “If they’re not in perfect rows when they come up, oh well.”

“How can they trample your garden while they’re arguing about who is doing what to whose garden?” Holly asked, her voice hoarse and fighting back tears.

Dotty just shook her head. “I don’t know, sweetie, I just don’t know.” They reached the edge of the garden, entering the sterile halls that were the norm for most of the space station. “But humans of all nationalities, belief systems, genders and socio-economic backgrounds have been doing it for centuries. Millennia even.”

They turned a corner, and even the faint smell of the garden was gone.

“And it looks like we’ll be doing it for a few millennia more.”14 Hippie Freaks dedication

 

Margo

I must explain why this picture is so perfect for this story. Taken a couple of years ago, this is my daughter, who is attempting to climb up the giant spider web after the BIG kids… my older daughter, and Geri’s son lol!

This week’s Write on Edge prompt offered three choices, all with the Olympic Spirit. Geri and I chose this one:

Synchronized Diving

Partner up with another Write on Edge writer. You each have 450 words to write about a conflict between two characters; each writer should represent a single character’s point of view.

Margo glared at her big sister. Bliss had blindly waved the kids on, saying “Sure!” without even bothering to look at the playground rules, or the sign that said “Equipment intended for use by children ages five through twelve.”

The cousins, ages three and four (and just barely four, not even four and a half,) were already attempting to climb the ginormous structure.

Even knowing it was futile, Margo had to speak up. “Bliss, this is the big kids’ playground. There’s another one for the smaller kids just over—“

“Good grief, Margo,” as usual, Bliss didn’t even let her finish her sentence. “You’re the one who doesn’t bother watching your own kids. They’ll be fine as long as we’re right here.” Bliss jiggled nine-month old Jenna against her chest, wrapped tightly in some kind of primitive cloth thing that was draped and knotted in some complicated way.

Margo held securely onto two-year-old Taylor’s hand. It was bad enough that the three and four year olds were on the dangerous structure, the last thing she needed was to have her toddler go racing after them. Fortunately, Taylor always seemed to sense her mother’s unease and stayed close. “But look at the sign…” Margo’s voice was carefully insistent; she made sure her tone was nothing but purely respectful as she pointed out the rules, “…it clearly says it’s for children—”

A loud wail interrupted their discussion. Sure enough, the cousins had fallen and hurt themselves, probably while jostling to see who could get to the top first. They always seemed to bring out the worst in each other. Margo hadn’t seen, since she’d had to argue with her atrociously arrogant and careless sister. She clenched her jaw, meeting her sister’s gaze for one brief moment before rushing to her daughter’s aide.

All she needed to know was captured in that one brief moment of eye contact. The passing of blame. Bliss’ refusal to accept that she was wrong. She probably thought it was somehow Margo’s fault that the girls were hurt.

Sometimes… being family is just not enough reason to let my kids play with this horrible person’s kids.

Click here to read Geri’s story, Bliss.

The shortlink to this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-nw