 There’s an old farmhouse down a winding road. I can see it plainly—white with green gables, just like in the story of Anne. Past the house runs a dirt driveway that splits at the elm tree and goes all the way back to the tin-covered barn.
To the right of the house is an orchard of old, twisted apple trees that are perfect for climbing. There are lilacs and blossoms, fragrant in spring. Surrounding the house is an ample yard—cherishing, protecting—where childhood unfolds in its warm embrace. Beyond the yard are vast, green fields that reach to forever, and thick forests of mystery entice us to wander.
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 Anyone who’s been within earshot of a Nova Scotia pond on a late May evening knows why they are called a chorus of frogs. Though these little green amphibians may grunt and grumble while lazing in the water alone on a warm afternoon, when evening falls and they come together around the shores and among the reeds, they sing. The cool night air fills with their sweet notes, sharp and clear: nature’s choir, heralding hope and new life — the songs of spring.
It comes with reluctance in the Maritimes, holding back; taunting; maybe shy. Then suddenly, spring breaks through, erupting in full color. Deep scarlet adorns the red maples. There are rose-pink crabapple blossoms, bright yellow forsythia, lilies, blue flags, and purple clusters of lilacs.  It's a beautiful afternoon as you pull into a parking spot just a few spaces from the door. You hum to yourself as you hop out of your car cuz everything’s going just right, and you really are on your game. You scuttle into the grocery store, pick up coffee and brown sugar, then you head to the bulk foods section. You grab a little plastic bag and a twist tie. You sidle up to the almonds and your mouth starts to water. But wait! What’s this? Stray almonds all over—in the tray beneath the dispenser and on the floor! And you think to yourself, Goodness, people are wasteful! What a shame! You’re well experienced with this machine. You wrap your bag purposefully around the spout and hold tightly with one hand while you ease down the lever, ever so carefully, with the other. And dozens of those delicious nuggets pad softly into your bag as they’re supposed to—not one escapes. You smile with satisfaction. This is how it’s done, people. Once you have enough, you ease up on the lever to close off the flow. You take away the bag. You’re reaching for the twist tie when… Oh no! Oh, goodness! There’s tapping—still tapping!—and your head snaps back to the dreadful scene. Almonds unrestrained! Malfunction! What’s happening? You jump into action, back in there to save them. You stuff your bag under the spout, but your fingers are tripping all over themselves, and the bag just collapses while almonds shoot past, pinging off the tray, into your basket, and all over the floor! No, not on the floor!! Then you see it—an almond stuck way up in the chute! For pity’s sake, jammed in there like that, the valve can’t close! You grab for the lever—you’ll fix this—and you give a good yank. Yet in your befuddlement, you err. There’s a startling gush of almonds, unleashed! And with horror you realize you’ve brought the valve wide open, not closed! A torrent ensues. Almonds fly at you, inside your coat, mounding up in your basket, pounding the floor. It’s madness! Oh, stop! MAKE IT STOP! You just know by now everyone’s staring, but you don’t dare turn your head cuz you can’t let them see what a state you’re in, all flustered and sweating. You have to end this! End it now! You muster everything in you, and you shove that lever as hard as you can. This time it crunches and jolts…and finally goes all the way closed. The deluge subsides. Silence, at last. Your hand remains on the lever. For a moment, you don’t move. Then your shoulders heave as you let out your breath. You survey the damage. Nope, it’s too far gone; there’s nothing you can do. You slink away with your overflowing almond bag and your violated shopping basket. Well, you can’t just walk off and leave such a disaster. You square your shoulders and track down an unsuspecting employee. “Ah… I’m so very sorry. There was a little trouble in the bulk foods section. Don’t bother with the dustpan,” you tell her helpfully. “You’re going to need a shovel…and the big garbage bin.” “Oh, and uh, you’re out of almonds.” You hand her your basket and make your escape. From Thankful Copyright © by 2022 Sandra Grace
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AuthorSandra Grace was born and raised near Moncton, New Brunswick. It was there she began her writing, tapping out stories for her children. ArchivesCategories |
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