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March 11, 2009

Caitlin: A Little Help from My Friends

Twice clockwise, thrice widdershins…

She felt like an idiot as she circled the garden carrying the bowl of blood and cow’s milk, muttering words of an ancient prayer. It’s never going to work, she thought. Why am I out here?

Desperation. She’d lost to Missy Thrailkill and her gorgeous tomatoes and her heirloom cabbage heads for five years now, and she’d be dammed if she’d take third prize again.

I’ll give her a cabbage head…

She placed the bowl of milk in the center of the circle and walked to the house. Who knows? Maybe they will come after all.

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