Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

A quote: “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” ~~ Thomas A. Edison

I’ll start with a story …

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See over there? That corner of the playground? Used to be a garden. For years springtime found Mrs. Story and her 3rd graders planting and tending it.

Planning took math. Journals were kept on dates planted, seedlings spotted and yield of crops.

The children thrived — delighted from the first turn of soil to dividing up the harvest to take home.

But recent teachers, new grads with resentful eyes and other agendas, hissed “Waste of time.”

They forced the garden closed, Mrs. Story gone.

I went to tell her how much she meant to me, but her house was empty.

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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.

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6 Comments
  • Dupin says:

    Interestingly, disposable cups never had a run on them during any of the panics, so we had plenty available. The same for bags of dirt and compost. We were golden there.

    It was work clearing the land. Set aside for years, it was serendipity that everything happened in winter. By the time we cleared it, it was almost time to plant.

    We put our packs of heirloom seeds in the cups along with the dirt, compost, and other goodies. Now they’re sprouting, ready to go in the ground.

    With a little luck, we’ll have plenty of food from now on.

  • Hate_me says:

    I really liked this one.

    I’m too manly to admit that I may have teared up for a moment.

  • Navig8r says:

    “People transplant tomatoes all the time, but beans?”

    “These are very special beans. They’ll grow all night and tomorrow morning they will reach up into the clouds.”

    “You are so gullible!”

    “Says the person who believes in astrology.”

    “I mean, that is so unscientific!”

    “And also believes that chromosomes have nothing to do with reproductive roles and insists on pronouns not matching their anatomy. Please be ready tomorrow with the hatchet to cut the beanstalk down if the giant is chasing me on my way back.”

    “I’m reporting you for harassment, and BTW, Jack beat you to the golden goose!”

  • Leigh Kimmel says:

    The smell of fresh-turned soil tickled Elaine’s nostrils, bringing back memories. She could almost see the old farmhouse on the Iowa prairie, the flowerbeds, the vegetable garden, the fields that surrounded the farmstead.

    The pang of homesickness caught her by surprise, and she had to blink back the tears welling up in her eyes. How much did she really miss her hometown?

    Certainly she didn’t miss the bullying, or the friends who suddenly ghosted her when the winds of politics shifted and her kind was no longer welcome. But she wished she could show her parents their grandsons, let Mom and Dad spoil Nicky and Basil rotten.

    But that wasn’t possible, not unless there was some serious change in Washington. In the meantime, she had her little garden plot to keep her busy.

    “Nicky, don’t pull that. That’s not a weed.”

  • Cameron says:

    “She seems to be enjoying herself.”
    “Oh yes. Don’t know what got her into gardening but it’s a healthy hobby for her. Now I have to threaten her with taking her gardening time away instead of the TV. And her friends are enjoying it too.”
    My friend smiled. “Have to admit that I’m kind of surprised. I figured your HOA’s busybody would have objected to your backyard garden. Something about not being up to community standards. How did you handle it?”
    “She’s got some good soil to work with. Betting we get a decent crop of vegetables later this year.”

  • ohiohedgehog says:

    I don’t know why they did it. It couldn’t have been fun. Was there resentment? Then why do it, week after week? Season after season? And yet there we were, down on the old home place, ponies saddled and kids riding. After a trip in the back of the pickup. Sunday after Sunday. No golf. No outings with co-workers. Only what now, to us, appears as work. Raising children. Children for whom they sacrificed even though at the time we didn’t “get it.” Children who appreciate where foods comes from. Children who, five dozen years later, finally recognize it. Opportunity.

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