Fanfic - Haven - Salt - Epsom Salt (1/?)
Pairing: None.
Rating: G (K)
Disclaimer: There'd be plenty of things that would be different if I owned Haven, despite its near perfection.
Spoilers: I suppose for "Spiral".
Summary: The word "salt" has many meanings, straight and idiomatic, in the English language. Series of one-shots. Epsom salt: Magnesium sulfate. Magnesium is alkaline - when used as a fertilizer for hydrangeas, it encourages a change in petal color from blue to pink. Hydrangeas are one of the few plants capable of this change. Betaed by the lovely lone_pyramid and gagewhitney. (536 words)
After the death of his father, Nathan’s childhood home felt different.
The first time he’d noticed such a change was the summer after his first year in college. The solid, wood clapboard colonial could fit inside his political science lecture hall at least twice. Spending so much time around buildings of stone or brick had made his family home seem almost primitive. The realization that his existence until then was so relatively small had been a sobering one. It had only given him one more reason to visit home as little as possible. The only motivation he’d had to come at all was the fact that it was filled with artifacts of his childhood, and by extension, his mother.
Now, for the first time in years, he ambled over the slate stones leading to the front door. All these years later, Mom’s pride and joy - large, fluffy bushes of hydrangea - still bordered the path. In his memory, vases of cut blooms stood on tables, on counters, and always on her dresser. Sometimes she mixed them with the best of her white peonies, but they were always there.
Lazily, he approached the nearest bush and cupped a spherical cluster of flowers with reverence. They were, and had always been, that unmistakable Cape Cod blue. Vibrant, almost a primary of pastels with just a touch of violet. The ground in Haven was uniformly acidic, so close to the ocean. But one year, Mom had gotten it into her head that she wanted to try for pink flowers. The trick, she’d said, was to make the soil more alkaline. Vera had explained the science of changing a hydrangea’s color as she packed Epsom salts around the plants' roots. Nathan had sat Indian style, half understanding (his love for her and her musical voice making up for the rest), cradling a toy spade in his lap. Despite the fact that the plants had never borne pink blossoms, he’d always remembered it as a good day.
Vera, like all residents of this place, should have known better than to fight nature. In a port town, you quickly learned to appreciate the alternate beauty and cruelty of the sea. But earth and flesh could be just as heartless and unforgiving. He’d lost her as sure as the land lost ground to the incoming tide. Nature took what she took.
With a sigh, Nathan allowed the Vermeer flowers to droop toward the stone path. They were doing well, and he thought they added a quaint touch that would come in handy once he was ready to sell. Most of the memories he’d made in this house were with the Chief - awkward, stilted, full of rejection and more than a little hurt. Nevertheless, he felt a twinge at the idea. He knew it wouldn’t be feasible to live here himself. It was far too large for one person, though he suspected the Chief had stayed for the same reason he was reluctant to let it go.
Gently rubbing a chalky blue petal between his fingers, Nathan decided to consult Laverne. She’d always had a green thumb. Maybe a few of these plants would stand a better chance for pink blooms in his own garden.