Fic: The Benefits Of Gardening
Title: The Benefits Of Gardening
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Meriel, Twins, Fluffs.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1587
Spoilers: Nada. Set in the Nosy-Verse.
Summary: Gardening is supposed to reduce stress, but not when a pair or daredevil toddlers are added to the mix.
Written For: Weekend Challenge Prompt: Managing Stress: Gardening at 1_million_words.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
March had blown in typically wild and windy but now, halfway through the month, the weather had settled, dry and mild. After the winter they’d endured, Jack and Ianto were both happy for the opportunity to get outside and begin the task of setting their roof garden to rights.
It was going to be a big job; there’d been more storms than usual over winter, not much in the way of snow but a lot of wind and rain. As a result, the perennial plants were looking bedraggled, most of them flattened into the mud, and some of the shrubs had lost branches. The espalier fruit trees needed to have their new shoots tied in, dead vegetation would have to be cleared away and consigned to the compost bins, the paths cleared of mud, raised beds repaired, and readied for planting… The greenhouse, fenced off from the main garden to keep inquisitive children and Flufflets away from it, would also need work; several panes had been shattered by flying debris.
With the weekend off, and the weather set to remain sunny and bright, as soon after breakfast as they could the two men pulled on their gardening clothes and the whole family headed outside.
The twins, at twenty months, were too young to be of any real help, so they were parked with their favourite toys on a blanket spread on the decking just outside the French doors, where they could play under the watchful eyes of the family Fluffs. Later in the year they’d be able to play on the lawn, which was artificial grass, chosen because it saved having to find time to keep it mowed, but at present it was still wet, and the heavy rains had washed soil across it in places, leaving muddy patches. Cleaning it would be a pain, but it wasn’t a priority. Today, the focus would be on the flower beds, because Jack, in an impulse buying frenzy, had bought a load of plants the last time he’d done the grocery shopping, and they needed to be in the ground as soon as possible, before they ended up dying of neglect and lack of watering.
The two men, with the willing assistance of their oldest daughter, nine-year-old Meriel, set to work with a will, sorting out the bed closest to the deck, which had suffered the least damage. It was good to be out in the fresh air, but it soon became clear that, despite the three Fluffs in attendance, gardening with two toddlers about wasn’t going to be as easy as it had been a few years ago with only one.
Then again, Meriel had generally been an easy, well-behaved child; the same couldn’t be said for the twins. Although there were only two of them, the Holy Terrors, as they’d been nicknamed almost from birth, had a habit of seeming to be everywhere at once, and getting into every kind of trouble imaginable. Ianto half suspected they conspired with each other telepathically, finding ways to outwit not just their parents and older sibling, but the Fluffs as well. There was no other way to explain how they could get up to so much mischief with six pairs of eyes on them.
With a yelp of alarm, Ianto lunged for their son, just managing the grab the back of his romper suit in time to keep him from planting himself headfirst in the hole Jack had just dug for a new lavender bush. Jack had only turned his back for a few seconds to pick up the plant and extract it from its pot, but that had been long enough for Gareth to decide the hole, half-filled with water, was worthy of investigation.
Dragged away from his goal, Gareth immediately threw a tantrum as his Taddy plonked him unceremoniously back on the blanket. Squiggle the Flufflet offered Ianto an apologetic hum for failing to keep its charge under control, before turning its attention to the screaming toddler. Nosy added its own soothing influence, attempting to restore calm, although it didn’t seem to be having much effect, and at that precise moment, Meriel gave a squeak of alarm.
“Oh, ugh, I think Jenna just ate a slug!”
Lavender plant still clutched in one hand, Jack gave a resigned sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Of course she did. Anyone would think we didn’t feed her enough.” Both twins were typically chubby toddlers, and perfectly healthy, according to Owen; they really shouldn’t need extra protein. “Last week she caught a spider and ate it,” he added with a shudder. “Shouldn’t be surprised she’s sampling the outdoor wildlife as well.”
“Probably your fault for swallowing that fly when you were pregnant,” Ianto teased.
“That was an accident! I yawned and it flew into my mouth. I’d swallowed it before I knew what was happening.”
While everyone was momentarily distracted by Jenna’s unconventional eating habits, Gareth, realising that screaming and crying wasn’t having the hoped for effect, suddenly scrambled to his feet, and toddled onto the artificial lawn, making a beeline for the biggest mud puddle. Ianto chased after him while Jenna, proving once again that she was always open to new and exciting experiences, tried to shove a wriggling earthworm up her nose.
Braving his younger daughter’s temper, Jack hurriedly extracted the worm, dropping it into one of the holes Ianto had dug for the bedding plants. “Worms are not toys,” he scolded. “And they definitely don’t belong in noses!”
Jenna pouted and babbled something he couldn’t quite make out before sneezing mud out of her nose, blinking in surprise.
“You know, I always thought gardening was supposed to reduce stress and anxiety, not make it worse,” Ianto commented, returning with a mud-spattered Gareth tucked under one arm. He looked frazzled.
“It used to,” Jack replied wistfully. “I dimly recall relaxing days pottering around out here, but that was back when the worst menaces we were likely to find in the garden were blackfly and red spider mite. Now we have the twins.”
“Yep, and they’re menaces no matter where they are.” Ianto dumped the muddy toddler back on the blanket. “I miss those days.” Kicking off his shoes on the deck, Ianto headed indoors.
“Where are you going?” Jack sounded a bit alarmed at the thought of being the only adult in charge of two tiny trouble magnets.
“To get their playpen,” Ianto replied, pausing just inside. “If we stick them in that we might actually be able to make some progress with the gardening instead of spending all our time trying to keep our kids from doing something catastrophic.”
“But it’ll get all muddy!”
“I’d rather have a muddy playpen and two reasonably safe kids than spend the rest of the day with my heart in my mouth, trying to keep our monsters from harming themselves. The Flufflets can keep them mostly out of trouble when they’re indoors, everything’s been babyproofed in there, but out here there are just too many distractions, not to mention too many opportunities for the Holy Terrors to cause chaos and mayhem.”
“May’m!” Jenna agreed with enthusiasm, waving an empty plant pot, and almost hitting herself in the eye with it.
“No, Jenna!” Jack took her new toy away from her, and in retaliation, she tried to bite him. “Okay, you’re right, playpen it is.”
“I’m glad we agree.” Ianto went to fetch it, manhandling it out the French doors onto the deck, then chasing after Gareth again, this time grabbing him before he made it onto the lawn. Once his son was safely confined, he sat down on the steps and watched as Jack plucked Jenna from halfway under a shrub and trudged back up the path with her.
“Tell me it’ll get easier as they get older,” Ianto pleaded.
“I would, but I don’t wanna lie to you. Maybe when they get to Meriel’s age…” Jack trailed off.
“No more kids,” Ianto said firmly.
“Agreed. Three is enough.”
“More than enough.” Ianto gave a heartfelt sigh. “We just need to keep them alive until they’re old enough to develop some common sense, because it doesn’t look like they were born with any.”
“Was I as bad as the twins when I was little?” Meriel asked, joining her daddies on the steps. She was frowning.
“No, sweetheart.” Ianto put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Not even close. I think you got all the common sense your brother and sister missed out on. You were an angel compared to these two. Well, aside from the time you poured shampoo down the loo. That was… interesting.”
“But you do love them, don’t you? Even though they’re so naughty.”
“You bet we do.” Jack settled at her other side. “If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be working so hard to protect them from themselves. They’re our babies, there’s nothing we wouldn’t do to keep them safe, just the way we always have with you, but it’s scary being responsible for them when they don’t know enough yet to be responsible for themselves.”
“They are a lot of work,” Meriel agreed.
“They’ll learn,” Ianto said. “Eventually. At least they should be safe enough in their playpen.”
“We can only hope.” Jack stood up, holding his hands out to his husband and oldest daughter. “Come on, let’s see what we can get done before the Terrors figure out how to escape. Maybe if we try hard enough, we can rediscover the therapeutic properties of gardening.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Meriel, Twins, Fluffs.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1587
Spoilers: Nada. Set in the Nosy-Verse.
Summary: Gardening is supposed to reduce stress, but not when a pair or daredevil toddlers are added to the mix.
Written For: Weekend Challenge Prompt: Managing Stress: Gardening at 1_million_words.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
March had blown in typically wild and windy but now, halfway through the month, the weather had settled, dry and mild. After the winter they’d endured, Jack and Ianto were both happy for the opportunity to get outside and begin the task of setting their roof garden to rights.
It was going to be a big job; there’d been more storms than usual over winter, not much in the way of snow but a lot of wind and rain. As a result, the perennial plants were looking bedraggled, most of them flattened into the mud, and some of the shrubs had lost branches. The espalier fruit trees needed to have their new shoots tied in, dead vegetation would have to be cleared away and consigned to the compost bins, the paths cleared of mud, raised beds repaired, and readied for planting… The greenhouse, fenced off from the main garden to keep inquisitive children and Flufflets away from it, would also need work; several panes had been shattered by flying debris.
With the weekend off, and the weather set to remain sunny and bright, as soon after breakfast as they could the two men pulled on their gardening clothes and the whole family headed outside.
The twins, at twenty months, were too young to be of any real help, so they were parked with their favourite toys on a blanket spread on the decking just outside the French doors, where they could play under the watchful eyes of the family Fluffs. Later in the year they’d be able to play on the lawn, which was artificial grass, chosen because it saved having to find time to keep it mowed, but at present it was still wet, and the heavy rains had washed soil across it in places, leaving muddy patches. Cleaning it would be a pain, but it wasn’t a priority. Today, the focus would be on the flower beds, because Jack, in an impulse buying frenzy, had bought a load of plants the last time he’d done the grocery shopping, and they needed to be in the ground as soon as possible, before they ended up dying of neglect and lack of watering.
The two men, with the willing assistance of their oldest daughter, nine-year-old Meriel, set to work with a will, sorting out the bed closest to the deck, which had suffered the least damage. It was good to be out in the fresh air, but it soon became clear that, despite the three Fluffs in attendance, gardening with two toddlers about wasn’t going to be as easy as it had been a few years ago with only one.
Then again, Meriel had generally been an easy, well-behaved child; the same couldn’t be said for the twins. Although there were only two of them, the Holy Terrors, as they’d been nicknamed almost from birth, had a habit of seeming to be everywhere at once, and getting into every kind of trouble imaginable. Ianto half suspected they conspired with each other telepathically, finding ways to outwit not just their parents and older sibling, but the Fluffs as well. There was no other way to explain how they could get up to so much mischief with six pairs of eyes on them.
With a yelp of alarm, Ianto lunged for their son, just managing the grab the back of his romper suit in time to keep him from planting himself headfirst in the hole Jack had just dug for a new lavender bush. Jack had only turned his back for a few seconds to pick up the plant and extract it from its pot, but that had been long enough for Gareth to decide the hole, half-filled with water, was worthy of investigation.
Dragged away from his goal, Gareth immediately threw a tantrum as his Taddy plonked him unceremoniously back on the blanket. Squiggle the Flufflet offered Ianto an apologetic hum for failing to keep its charge under control, before turning its attention to the screaming toddler. Nosy added its own soothing influence, attempting to restore calm, although it didn’t seem to be having much effect, and at that precise moment, Meriel gave a squeak of alarm.
“Oh, ugh, I think Jenna just ate a slug!”
Lavender plant still clutched in one hand, Jack gave a resigned sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Of course she did. Anyone would think we didn’t feed her enough.” Both twins were typically chubby toddlers, and perfectly healthy, according to Owen; they really shouldn’t need extra protein. “Last week she caught a spider and ate it,” he added with a shudder. “Shouldn’t be surprised she’s sampling the outdoor wildlife as well.”
“Probably your fault for swallowing that fly when you were pregnant,” Ianto teased.
“That was an accident! I yawned and it flew into my mouth. I’d swallowed it before I knew what was happening.”
While everyone was momentarily distracted by Jenna’s unconventional eating habits, Gareth, realising that screaming and crying wasn’t having the hoped for effect, suddenly scrambled to his feet, and toddled onto the artificial lawn, making a beeline for the biggest mud puddle. Ianto chased after him while Jenna, proving once again that she was always open to new and exciting experiences, tried to shove a wriggling earthworm up her nose.
Braving his younger daughter’s temper, Jack hurriedly extracted the worm, dropping it into one of the holes Ianto had dug for the bedding plants. “Worms are not toys,” he scolded. “And they definitely don’t belong in noses!”
Jenna pouted and babbled something he couldn’t quite make out before sneezing mud out of her nose, blinking in surprise.
“You know, I always thought gardening was supposed to reduce stress and anxiety, not make it worse,” Ianto commented, returning with a mud-spattered Gareth tucked under one arm. He looked frazzled.
“It used to,” Jack replied wistfully. “I dimly recall relaxing days pottering around out here, but that was back when the worst menaces we were likely to find in the garden were blackfly and red spider mite. Now we have the twins.”
“Yep, and they’re menaces no matter where they are.” Ianto dumped the muddy toddler back on the blanket. “I miss those days.” Kicking off his shoes on the deck, Ianto headed indoors.
“Where are you going?” Jack sounded a bit alarmed at the thought of being the only adult in charge of two tiny trouble magnets.
“To get their playpen,” Ianto replied, pausing just inside. “If we stick them in that we might actually be able to make some progress with the gardening instead of spending all our time trying to keep our kids from doing something catastrophic.”
“But it’ll get all muddy!”
“I’d rather have a muddy playpen and two reasonably safe kids than spend the rest of the day with my heart in my mouth, trying to keep our monsters from harming themselves. The Flufflets can keep them mostly out of trouble when they’re indoors, everything’s been babyproofed in there, but out here there are just too many distractions, not to mention too many opportunities for the Holy Terrors to cause chaos and mayhem.”
“May’m!” Jenna agreed with enthusiasm, waving an empty plant pot, and almost hitting herself in the eye with it.
“No, Jenna!” Jack took her new toy away from her, and in retaliation, she tried to bite him. “Okay, you’re right, playpen it is.”
“I’m glad we agree.” Ianto went to fetch it, manhandling it out the French doors onto the deck, then chasing after Gareth again, this time grabbing him before he made it onto the lawn. Once his son was safely confined, he sat down on the steps and watched as Jack plucked Jenna from halfway under a shrub and trudged back up the path with her.
“Tell me it’ll get easier as they get older,” Ianto pleaded.
“I would, but I don’t wanna lie to you. Maybe when they get to Meriel’s age…” Jack trailed off.
“No more kids,” Ianto said firmly.
“Agreed. Three is enough.”
“More than enough.” Ianto gave a heartfelt sigh. “We just need to keep them alive until they’re old enough to develop some common sense, because it doesn’t look like they were born with any.”
“Was I as bad as the twins when I was little?” Meriel asked, joining her daddies on the steps. She was frowning.
“No, sweetheart.” Ianto put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Not even close. I think you got all the common sense your brother and sister missed out on. You were an angel compared to these two. Well, aside from the time you poured shampoo down the loo. That was… interesting.”
“But you do love them, don’t you? Even though they’re so naughty.”
“You bet we do.” Jack settled at her other side. “If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be working so hard to protect them from themselves. They’re our babies, there’s nothing we wouldn’t do to keep them safe, just the way we always have with you, but it’s scary being responsible for them when they don’t know enough yet to be responsible for themselves.”
“They are a lot of work,” Meriel agreed.
“They’ll learn,” Ianto said. “Eventually. At least they should be safe enough in their playpen.”
“We can only hope.” Jack stood up, holding his hands out to his husband and oldest daughter. “Come on, let’s see what we can get done before the Terrors figure out how to escape. Maybe if we try hard enough, we can rediscover the therapeutic properties of gardening.”
The End