Frivolous Content Only

“There is a person in our garden.”

Linnellinn’s voice made everything sound like a song. Most of the time, it would be a pleasant type of song, such as a hymn or a serenade, but that particular sentence sounded more like the prelude of a tragic drama. Probably because of that lingering drop on “person”, with its hint of impropriety.

So, this was clearly an emergency. Celuron folded his aqueduct schematics neatly, and stood up.

“Let me see,” he said.

His wife led him to the front room, and then, with a silent, theatrical gesture indicated the curtains of the main window. Taking the hint, Celuron twitched one curtain aside, just a little, and looked.

The “person” in question was a man, tall and broad and completely absorbed by the rather pathetic rose-bush that grew sullenly about halfway to their front gate. Watching his intent scrutiny, Celuron felt shame at the state of the bush—which was ridiculous, since he was not responsible for the garden of a place he had only recently rented. Not according to the terms of the lease, and certainly not morally. Besides, he had already sent the landlord a strongly-written letter regarding the situation, and he would be very surprised if Linnellinn had not done the same, at least twice. Really, it was a disgrace that the landlord had not already arranged for…

…a gardener! The man had to be a gardener! He was definitely dressed like one, mud-splattered boots, non-fireproof apron, and all.

“There is a person in our garden.”

Linnellinn’s voice made everything sound like a song. Most of the time, it would be a pleasant type of song, such as a hymn or a serenade, but that particular sentence sounded more like the prelude of a tragic drama. Probably because of that lingering drop on “person”, with its hint of impropriety.

So, this was clearly an emergency. Celuron folded his aqueduct schematics neatly, and stood up.

“Let me see,” he said.

His wife led him to the front room, and then, with a silent, theatrical gesture indicated the curtains of the main window. Taking the hint, Celuron twitched one curtain aside, just a little, and looked.

The “person” in question was a man, tall and broad and completely absorbed by the rather pathetic rose-bush that grew sullenly about halfway to their front gate. Watching his intent scrutiny, Celuron felt shame at the state of the bush—which was ridiculous, since he was not responsible for the garden of a place he had only recently rented. Not according to the terms of the lease, and certainly not morally. Besides, he had already sent the landlord a strongly-written letter regarding the situation, and he would be very surprised if Linnellinn had not done the same, at least twice. Really, it was a disgrace that the landlord had not already arranged for…

…a gardener! The man had to be a gardener! He was definitely dressed like one, mud-splattered boots, non-fireproof apron, and all.