gonna get up out of the ground
Eden spends a lot of time in her garden these days. She doesn't have the aptitude for writing scripts which Daisy and Gideon possessed, she has no skill with a camera and she's not much of a director, she's sure, and while she knows she ought to turn her attention to the project she proposed all those months ago, she's yet to get started. She isn't qualified and she knows it. If everyone else does, too, and no one shows, she won't know what to do.
So she works on the plants outside her house, things she planted after the gifts in January, a mix of herbs and flowers, some of which are only just coming into their own as others start to fade. Their yard sees a lot of butterflies and bees as a result, and Eden thinks it's beautiful, seeing something like this she brought about with her own hands, something she worked for.
It requires attention, though, weeding and pruning and watering, things she's read up on extensively to make sure she does it right, and so she finds herself in the garden in the morning, kneeling as she tugs the gardening gloves from her hands. They help with thorns and the like, but she prefers to use her bare hands when she works with the earth. There's a bare patch of soil where she's going to plant seeds she's saved better suited toward this time of year, and so she drags her finger through the dirt, creating a trench intended for these.
She's so intent on her work that, for a split second, she doesn't notice the movement beneath her, the rumbling of the earth, until it grows a bit more intense and she snaps back onto her heels. There's never been an earthquake on the island so long as she's been here, but if there's one now, she doesn't want to be near trees.
Except that as she stumbles to her feet, it starts to subside, and Eden's almost convinced she imagined it. "Claire?" she calls back toward the house. "Claire, did you feel that?"
So she works on the plants outside her house, things she planted after the gifts in January, a mix of herbs and flowers, some of which are only just coming into their own as others start to fade. Their yard sees a lot of butterflies and bees as a result, and Eden thinks it's beautiful, seeing something like this she brought about with her own hands, something she worked for.
It requires attention, though, weeding and pruning and watering, things she's read up on extensively to make sure she does it right, and so she finds herself in the garden in the morning, kneeling as she tugs the gardening gloves from her hands. They help with thorns and the like, but she prefers to use her bare hands when she works with the earth. There's a bare patch of soil where she's going to plant seeds she's saved better suited toward this time of year, and so she drags her finger through the dirt, creating a trench intended for these.
She's so intent on her work that, for a split second, she doesn't notice the movement beneath her, the rumbling of the earth, until it grows a bit more intense and she snaps back onto her heels. There's never been an earthquake on the island so long as she's been here, but if there's one now, she doesn't want to be near trees.
Except that as she stumbles to her feet, it starts to subside, and Eden's almost convinced she imagined it. "Claire?" she calls back toward the house. "Claire, did you feel that?"