White and Blue Press

Start of Spring

Olivia, Creative Response

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It was almost 6:00 am when the rain stopped. Even though it was the weekend, I was too excited to sleep in any longer. As my entire family was still peacefully resting under their comforters, I sat straight up, trying to figure out how to pass the time. I gave a slight tug to the shade, which flew up immediately. I stared up at the sky past the spider web-covered window beside my bed. Seconds seemed to drag on, turning to minutes and minutes, then hours. I listened to the steady tick of the clock on my dresser. The bright lights read 5:59. 

I felt under my old oak bed for the dusty plant book, which had a permanent residence under all of the junk there. I retrieved it and peeled the flimsy pages apart. It was surprisingly light outside. The sun wasn’t up, but it was just about as light as it normally was in my room. I read about all different kinds of plants and famous gardens. I began to plan out a garden of my own with different types of flowers along with vegetables. Time seemed to drag on for an eternity until I remembered that I was going to my lake house today.

I couldn’t wait to see the glistening blue waters again. I had started growing some plants in the bright sunroom downstairs, but because the weather was too cold, we were going to transplant them to my grandparents’ lake house. My dad and I always plant a garden at the lake, but this year, now that I was 10, he said I could do it all by myself. He then have me this book that had everything about gardening inside. It had descriptions of hundreds of plants, how to grow them, how to plant them in different climates, and how to store the produce. The ripped, coffee-stained book held a magical aura as I flipped through the countless suggestions.

My mom was the next one that got up, and when she asked me what I was doing with the window shade up, I responded,, “I was reading.” She didn’t seem to care very much as she walked into the bathroom to take a shower. I was still shaking with excitement when my sister woke up and slumped down the stairs. I followed her.

“What are you doing awake so early?” she asked.

“I was so excited to go to the lake house that I woke up,” I responded.

I ran out into the sunroom where my plants were soaking up the morning sunlight. They all looked the same. Bright green stems with little leaves sticking out the top. It was hard to believe that they would probably produce enough buds to fill a few baskets. I planted them in large trays that were sectioned off into about 50 little containers. Each contained a little seedling. I pick one up and it shook in my little hands. I lost control, and I felt the large tray flip upside down and onto the floor.

“Dad,” I shouted, “I need your help!” He came running the moment the words burst out of my mouth.

“What happened?” he asked but stopped in the middle of his words once he noticed the upturned box and the soil sprawled across the floor. “Its okay,” he said. “We can still plant the other seedlings.”

I stood there for a moment. “Okay,” I responded happily.

As we loaded up the car to go, I stood and watched as Dad gingerly placed the last remaining box on the top of the huge mound of bags. Here, they were in a safer place. As we drove off, I stared out of my window thinking about what to do next year as we weren’t going to much of a garden this summer. I thought of the warm damp soil in between my fingers as I drifted off to sleep.

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