Playing by the Rules: A Novel by Elaine Meryl Brown

Author:Elaine Meryl Brown
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307542519
Publisher: One World BALLANTINE BOOKS
Published: 2011-03-22T03:22:04+00:00

After lowering the heat underneath his pots, he returned to his seat to watch the rest of the news. He grabbed a Winston from his shirt pocket and lit it with a wooden match, then stared at the tip of burning ash as if it would help him put things in perspective.

The weather’s temperament began to change as the days got warmer and longer. Snowmelt turning into water cascading into trout-filled streams was the welcome sign of early spring. The warming of the mountains made way for blossoms to grow on trees like spuds sprouting on a potato. Hummingbirds, warblers, wrens, and yellow-bellied sapsuckers took over the air as wildflowers like bloodroot and chickweed emerged slowly from the waking soil. Spring began to spread over the barren range as trees became full, creating their canopy in lush shades of green depending on where the sun’s shadows fell and its rays struck the earth. Winter’s bareness was now being covered by a coat of color as a blanket of geraniums, catawba rhododendrons, flame azaleas, dogwoods, and mountain laurels began to reappear. The subtle sweetness that lingered was a signal to the Lemonites that the downpouring of the rains would soon come. When the sky finished its disruption and quieted down and the clouds got over their temper tantrums, the townspeople would break ground to begin planting for the Annual County Fair.

Everyone was bursting with anticipation, and in keeping with tradition, Nana and Ole Miss Johnson approached the competition like two chickens fighting for the same space in a henhouse.

Planting was the preoccupation of many Lemonites during this season. Tomatoes in particular were of interest to Nana and Ole Miss Johnson. Last year, Nana had planted Big Boys, Mountain Prides, and Jubilees, but now decided to change her strategy and add Champions to the list. The reason was obvious, her motive simple. If a Champion was what she wanted to be, then that’s what she needed to plant. Although she wasn’t a superstitious person, Nana wasn’t above cultivating all the luck she could get.

Nana went outside wearing a heavy knit cardigan and her brand-new garden tool belt strapped around her waist, with Saint trailing behind. Sitting on her stool, she sharpened her tools, then began using her rotary tiller to soften the earth. When that was done, she plunged her spade six to eight inches into the ground to begin the planting process. In between rows, she stood up to rest and wipe the sweat from her forehead. Sensing she had company in her yard besides Saint, she turned around to catch sight of her neighbor staring back at her over the picket fence.

“Morning, Lurleen,” said Nana.

“Morning, yourself,” replied Ole Miss Johnson, being careful how she moved her body so her ribs wouldn’t hurt and would continue to heal. “Whatcha doing there?”

“Don’t concern you,” said Nana to the dirt.

“Humph.” Ole Miss Johnson became indignant.

Saint poked her head through the picket fence and instinctively Ole Miss Johnson picked up a broom. Nana swore her neighbor straddled that broom at night and rode it across the moon against a black-lit sky.

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