Theme Week 6

Sunday morning dawned muggy, a light fog clinging to the ground. Dawson was up and out of the house before they woke. He put a sandal cautiously onto the wet grass and looking up the hill settling his gaze on the blackberry patch as he licked his lips stemming saliva.

The way to get there is by the stone wall under the trees. She won’t see me getting in and then I’ll crawl into the patch on my belly. Then I’ll roll over and see all the berries the grown-ups missed and get back here before breakfast. Perfect.

Dawson’s trek took him around his dad’s barn out to the land forested by mature maple and fir with dense underbrush and ferns. He quickly found the stone wall and walked along it, the land rising towards the Waters’ property. He came upon the surveyor’s stake with bright orange ribbon motionless in the morning air and stopped to examine the territory ahead. Peering into the field he saw the dirt road leading from the Waters’ house, past his house, and down to the highway. Other side of it was open field, halfway across a path led to light from the big glasshouse. Looking up to the left Dawson figured that the garage between the Waters’ house and the greenhouse blocked their view of anyone running through that field. An awesome place to explore. They might see me getting there, but it’s dark enough and misty so no one will see, even if they are out of bed. Mom told me not to come up here, but I played here last summer when they built the place. Dawson made the construction site his playground, especially after working hours. He pretended to drive the bulldozer, dug into the piles of dirt, he and his friends played spies in the unfinished house, and he climbed around on the greenhouse frame before the glass came. He looked again at the lit-up greenhouse seeing whirling fans, masses of green leaves and bright flowers. He watched for a long time and saw no person moving. Deciding no one was inside he sprinted from cover, crossed the road, then slowed slipping into the field. He turned right to see his dark house and left sensing stillness at the Waters’ house. So far so good, he thought approaching the full glass entry door he reached out and turned the knob.

Even in the half-light before dawn he beheld a beautiful spectrum of flowers and greenery. The colors drew him in. Up close, one flower looked like all the colors in a sunrise. This was so cool he had to remember what to tell his friend Devin. No he had to get Devin to come in here with him. Playing spies while they built the house was Devin’s idea and now that the greenhouse was full it was perfect for spies. It was like the jungle in Jumanji. He felt there could be lions and monkeys right around the corner. He took a few cautious steps into the tangle of vines and leaves hanging from benches and baskets. Turning from the entryway to a large, high-ceilinged glass room his jaw went slack, eyes wide, peering into hundreds of light blue and purple colored stringy flowers. Some were wide open and others in varying phases of closing. He could make out the shapes like the sea anemones on the Discovery Channel, only still. He stood, taking in the immense room and host of flowers. The stringy flowers were not moving like the sea creatures on TV but something was moving out there in the room. Dawson stayed glued to the spot and now he heard, almost felt vibrations. As his senses adjusted to the room he realized the vibration and movement were coordinated. Darting among the stringy flowers were dozens of hummingbirds like the ones that visited the lilacs, only here were so many. Devin had to see this. Dawson filled with excitement anticipating the storytelling.