In Season

Photo on Visual hunt

In Season

Elenore raced downstairs to the kitchen. The aroma of morning coffee told her she had overslept, and she’d better hurry, or there wouldn’t be any food left. She slid onto the bench next to her eldest brother and he passed a platter of scrambled eggs.

“Joshua! You can put that last slice of bacon on Elenore’s plate,” he said.

Joshua froze, the bacon suspended inches from his open mouth and shot David a dirty look.

“But I’m still hungry.”

David picked up Elenore’s plate and held it in front of Joshua. He didn’t say a word. Joshua sighed dropping the bacon on the plate next to the last of the scrambled eggs.

“Thank you, Joshua,” Elenore smiled as David deposited the plate in front of her.

“There’s oatmeal if you’re still hungry,” Gram called from the sink, her back to the table.

Grampa slid a buttered toast triangle from his plate to Elenore’s.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Grampa and I had the best dream.”

“Did you now?” Grampa’s silver eyebrow arched, wrinkles spreading across his forehead.

“Mm, I dreamed Gram, and I were making my favorite jam.”

“Elenore, how many times have I told you not to speak with your mouth full?”

Elenore’s eyes bugged out, and she swallowed before answering, “Sorry Gram.”

“Were there pork chops as well?” Grampa winked and smiled at her before he pushed his chair back from the table.


“What do you think Babe?” Grampa asked making his way to the sink to give Gram a peck on the check.

“I think you’re dreaming too.”

Grampa chuckled and pushed open the screen door. The boys got up without him asking and followed him to the barn.

Elenore finished her breakfast then stacked the plates and flatware and carried them to the counter beside the sink. Gram handed her a damp rag, so she could wipe the table and chairs. They continued their morning work until the kitchen was spotless.

“May I see if they are ready?” Elenore’s voice broke the silence.

“Take a basket with you.”

Elenore picked up the basket and slipped out the door. She squinted as she looked at the kitchen garden. A warm breeze tickled the plants, bending them back and forth in an elaborate dance. Elenore danced too, her basket spinning she skipped past the garden towards her destination. It wasn’t far. Approaching the thicket, she flushed blackbirds from the bushes.

“Go away birds!” she shouted, “You can’t have my gooseberries.” She waved her arms and ran the last few yards. The birds squawked in protest as they flapped into the blue sky.

She eyed the purple and green translucent gems. She pulled a deep purple berry from its stem and popped it in her mouth.  It made her pucker and then smile with delight. They were ready. With her full basket, her dream would soon come true.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer