The Gardener’s Evening

By sunset, the gardener had done all the work that needed doing. She set the spade against the shed and rinsed her hands at the outdoor tap. The smell of wet soil rose as she walked the stone path.

The beans had reached the top of their poles. She wound a loose tendril around a bamboo stake, giving it a way to climb another inch by morning. A moth circled the white flowers near the gate, so she stopped to watch where it landed.

In the kitchen, she put a handful of mint in a cup and poured water over it. While it steeped, she set a tomato on the windowsill to finish ripening. It had a little sun-colored shoulder and a shape like a heart drawn in a hurry.

She drank her tea on the back step with her bare feet resting on the cool stone. The gate clicked in the wind, the way it always did before a change in weather. She could oil the latch tomorrow. For tonight, she liked to hear it.