Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town Countdown!

He listened to the wind chime outside of his door dancing in the breeze.  Summer had started out unseasonably cool this year, so Kai didn’t have the usual crowds he had grown accustomed to.  The first weeks of the season usually meant a packed beach, which in turn, meant crowds of hungry mouths to feed.  He was usually lucky if he could hear himself think, let alone avoid serving the same snacks to customers in his dreams.  It was busy and hectic, but it gave him a rush, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After all, it was a big reason he was always on the move.  He chased the sunshine and the rush that came with summer.  Business was always booming and he was always serving to smiling faces.  Mineral Town was an annual stop in his travels, though.  He could never quite put his finger on it, but every summer he arrived, he felt like he was returning home.  It was a feeling he had yearned for so long, and he relished in it.

He took a sip of his juice as he leaned on the counter, chin in hand.  The Beach Shack was clean and ready for business.  The ceiling fans lazily moved the air around, and it gave him a bit of a chill.  Kai hugged his arms a bit and shivered, wondering if the effect had been from the temperature or his dampened spirits. He couldn’t help but notice the inn was busy during its breakfast rush.  Ran expertly balanced dishes of omelettes and pancakes as she dashed from table to table, and the delicious smells of Dudley’s cooking wafted through the dining room.  It seemed everyone was in the mood for a late brunch that day – Mayor Thomas with his coffee and biscuits, Marie sipping at some herbal tea with her mother.  Pastor Carter and Doctor were deep into conversation at a secluded table, partaking in some blended juice and fruit salad.  

Kai let out a sigh – seasonal fruit dishes were one of his favorite things to prepare, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the longer trek or the chilly breeze from the water that was keeping them away. Where were the vacationers?  Where were the villagers who popped in for a quick lunch or came to stare at the waves?  Maybe it was true – his business was just too small and there weren’t enough customers to warrant both the Beach Shack and the local bar being open.

A sudden noise pulled him from his thoughts.  The cowbell on the door handle clanked loudly, signaling a guest.  He looked up with eager eyes and his breath caught in his throat.  He felt his heart pound and he let out a nervous chuckle, giving a broad grin.  He tried not to look too excited as he already began preparing the order he knew his guest would inevitably make – it was the same thing every time, after all.

There was something comfortable about it.  Watching the light behind their eyes as they dug into his cooking…  Sharing the details of their day and catching up during their down time…

Kai’s heart thumped loudly as he realized this was what made Mineral Town feel like home.  He gave them a wave, unable to contain his enthusiasm.  Did the air suddenly feel warmer, or was it his cheeks?

Dear Pops,

It feels like it was just yesterday that you were still here with us. Even though years have gone by, it’s hard to believe that you’re gone. Ellen and Mugi still talk about how much they miss you. And everytime I see your farm, I sometimes think I see you there too. I’ve been doing my best to try and keep up with it, but with my mayoral duties, it’s hard to run the town and the farm. But, I have some good news.

You remember the letter I wrote  to your grandchild a few weeks back, asking if they wanted to take over your farm? I wasn’t expecting a reply, but I remember you mentioning how much fun they had when I visited you as a child. Well, they wrote me back, and they’ll be arriving at your farm tomorrow to start their new life here in Mineral Town. I went around town today, asking everyone to show them the ropes, and they were all so excited to meet them.

You should have seen Popuri’s face when I told her someone new was coming to town, you would have thought I told her I found a chicken that lays golden eggs! Rick was a bit more hesitant, but you know how protective he is of his sister. I’m sure that once he meets your grandchild, they’ll get along, right as rain. Carter’s excited to see a new face in church, and I know he’ll still look to your empty seat during his sermons, and he’ll say a little prayer for you. Gray’s already working on a new set of tools for them, he wants to make sure they have a strong set to get started. And Marie’s already pulling her favorite books to recommend on the chance your grandchild’s an avid reader. You know how much she loves talking about books.

The Doctor and Elli are ready to give them a full checkup when they arrive. “A healthy body is the most valuable tool” they told me. Jeff’s been lining up his shop, getting everything in place so they’ll be able to buy everything they need right away. Karen seemed surprised that someone was moving from the city to our little town, but you know she’s always had her heart set on bigger places in life. Dudley and Ran have been fixing up the inn, just in case they want to stop in for supper. Ran’s been practicing her cooking ever since she heard the news, now the whole inn smells like pie. Not that I’m complaining, of course. And Cliff… well it’s always been hard to tell with him if he’s excited or not. Carter tells me he is.

To be honest, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the town this excited. I think we all wanted to see your farm back to its former glory, and knowing it’s going to your grandchild feels very reassuring. They all want to do everything they can to help make it a success. It’s that sense of community that makes me love this town more than I can possibly say.

I think they’ll do well here in Mineral Town. There’s a lot of young folks their age, and all the things they’ll need to make their life wonderful here. That being said, I am worried it may be too much for them… It’s not easy to suddenly take over an entire farm. But, they are your grandchild after all. Farming runs in the family. I’m sure they’ll catch on soon enough. I’m looking forward to the life they’ll breathe back into that old farm. And who knows? Maybe one day they’ll have kids of their own to pass the farm on to.

...I wish you’d be here to see it. You always talked about your grandchild so fondly, about how much they had grown in the pictures they sent you, about the memories they made on your farm so long ago. It almost feels like we already know them so well. They were always your greatest treasure. And now, it’s our turn to look after that treasure for you. So rest easy, my friend. We’re going to welcome your grandchild in like they were one of our own, and make sure they find happiness here. I promise.

On Monday, Chef woke up and ran to the farm, arms full of dried fodder and hay to throw into the feed baskets, laughing and thinking about red grass and honey, about cows swatting flies with their tails, about water and milking and fresh-laid eggs, round and huge in his hands. Brown and white, tan and ruby, fresh-laid and from the night before, to make into mayonnaise, hollandaise, fry sunny-side up with butter.

On Tuesday, Nappy woke up and slowly walked from their home to the farm, unsure at every step, the watering can precariously atop his head, a long wet line leading all the way home, thinking about orange grass and freshly watered leaves, water dripping off of their waxy surfaces, the tantalizing smell of wet earth and growing things. Cucumbers to crunch with salt and strawberries to boil to jam, the seasonal cycle, the rise and fall of the tides of the earth.

On Wednesday, Hoggy put on strong gloves and knelt between the crops, dug his fingers down into the earth and pulled out carrots as big as he was tall, still cool and caked with fresh-tilled soil, and pulled all of them to the shipping bin, lettuce that splashed dew, laughing as he thought of yellow grass and milled flour with the kernels to crunch between his teeth. The shipping box smelled as always of fresh, of lunch and of the harvest, magic tied up with the earth.

On Thursday, Timid coaxed nervous sheep to come closer, tangled his fingers into the thick soft cloud of its fur, and thought of green grass, fresh-spun yarn and carding wool, the warmth of a winter blanket or the rise of frost over the windowpanes while he sat tucked into sheepskin. It would spin, on a drop spindle or a wheel, it would knit, it would weave, it would sew, life turned into more life, into more life, into more, an endless cycle of creation.

On Friday, Aqua carried the watering can to and from the river, soaking himself with every step and losing his way along the straight line from river to field, thinking about polished jewels and fresh-baked bread, steaming just out of the oven. He watered the entirely wrong crops, thought endlessly of the pop of the lid of a mason jar, of the rattle of the millstone, of the boiling scream of the kettle, and soon enough went back and filled the watering can again. The wheat waved hopefully as the water ran over the stalks, as if to say soon.

On Saturday, Staid took blue and indigo grass and scythed down wheat to bundle, to be ground in the millstone into flour, singing to the birds and the grass to bake and toast, to rise well. Staid gathered strawberries and set cucumbers in the river to cool, tied up in nets, thought of sandwiches with fresh dill and heavy cream, of matcha and sencha and the burst of tannins.