Jola had ignored the garden for months. When she had first moved in, she paid it a little attention, but life quickly put a stop to her horticultural ways. Now the garden was a wilderness. Weeds were spreading far and wide. She picked up her cutlass. She would have to fight her way through.
Like the garden, her life was a tangle. Everything was growing, but it was hard to tell the blooms from the weeds. They were growing together. She had planted good seeds, so as the good book said, she would have to wait. Eventually, a day would come, the day of harvest.
Today wasn’t the day to untangle her life, but the garden was another matter. She cut down the tall weeds and pulled them up from the root. She tended to the good plants and placed good soil around them. She cleared the paths, swept and washed them. As she brought her work to completion, the sky poured a golden light over her efforts. It was a garden again. And it was a promise: that under the tangles, lies the truth.
