"D'ya smell God in the air, Claire?"
"Yeah." I flush with pleasure. The sun is warm on my head. Spring smells delicious. I clutch packets of seeds in my hands, peering up at Granny Banty. She's perched on the stepladder, pouring soil out of a koolaid jug into the eavestrough. Opaque pull-on rubbers, the type crimson-lipped ladies wear to church, cover her slippers. Varicose veins knuckle her calves.
It's May long weekend. Granny Banty's planting herbs in the eavestrough. When my Daddy, Edon, comes home from driving truck, he'll shake his head and say she's a nutcase if ever he saw one. He'll threaten to get a chain saw, and cut the huge oak branches that shield her herbs from the rain and wind, if she doesn't plant them like normal, sane folk.
I'll listen through the screen after he's gone indoors for the pop of the beer can, the creak of the chair. In my mind, he's John Wayne, home, safe and sound. All the bad guys have been run out of town.
The jug plunks into a clump of grass.
"Seeds." Granny Banty's hand comes down.
I rip off the corner of each packet and place them, standing up, in her palm. Already, the......
Hope you have enjoyed this excerpt from Roads Unravelling published by Sumach Press.
