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    Hitching Garden to Porch
    Hitching Garden to Porch
    Hitching Garden to Porch
    Ebook79 pages1 hour

    Hitching Garden to Porch

    By Brian Drake

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    About this ebook

    The three stories, in this book of fiction, tell compelling tales of the many archetypes we encounter while on our individual and collective journeys of self realization. From the tale of Grandpa’s Garden, we accompany the young Innocent on an inner journey as the Wise Old Man instructs him on the endless cycles of death and rebirth. Using the metaphor of the garden, we walk with the child through the transformation process mindful of proper care for the seeds we sow.

    In the story Highway we meet the archetype of the young Wanderer as he embarks, in true Joseph Campbell style, on a transformational Hero’s Journey. We travel with him as he crosses the country thumbing rides, meeting many engaging outer figures who mirror his own inner process. We go along for the ride and experience his ups and downs, victories and defeats, until at last the road warrior emerges as the hero.

    Finally in Hearing Music we witness the Wise Old Man and Wise Old Woman reflecting on their journey through life together, coming face to face with, and accepting, their destiny.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBrian Drake
    Release dateApr 4, 2012
    ISBN9781476195933
    Hitching Garden to Porch

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      Book preview

      Hitching Garden to Porch - Brian Drake

      HITCHING GARDEN to PORCH

      Short Stories from the Road Home

      Published by Brian Drake at Smashwords

      Copyright 2011 Brian Drake

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in review.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

      Contents

      Grandpa’s Garden

      Highway

      Hearing Music

      Grandpa’s Garden

      "More grows in the garden than the

      gardener realizes he has sown."

      —Ralph Waldo Emerson

      Mom left me with Grandpa while she and Grandma went to Sandy’s baby shower. I had heard Mom on the phone talking to someone about gifts, cake, and ice cream and I wanted to be there too.

      I pled my case with, Why can’t I go with y’all? How come only women get to go?

      Nine-year-old boys don’t care much for rarely-seen aunts twisting their cheeks and smothering them with ancient perfumes, but, regardless, I wanted to be at the dessert table when it came time to eat.

      Please? I pouted.

      No, Jack. You and your Grandpa are going to plant corn while we’re gone.

      Grandpa emerged from the hallway wearing his work clothes.

      Give me just a minute to find my straw hat and we’ll get started, he said.

      I looked behind me where Mom and Grandma were in the kitchen talking about some of the gifts they knew Sandy would receive.

      Grandma spoke with building excitement, Oh, she’ll be in fine shape. She’s getting lots of baby clothes, a bunch of diapers. Penny got her the cutest little pair of shoes, Joani bought her a crib, and Michael volunteered to paint the baby’s room pink.

      After hearing all that sissy talk and thinking more about Aunt Florence twisting one cheek and kissing the other, the garden seemed like a good idea.

      Oh, good. Here it is—Jack, grab a hoe and a bag of seeds from the tool-shed and take them out to the garden. I’ll fill up a bucket of water and meet you there, Grandpa said from the closet at the end of the hall.

      Can we watch Speed Racer first? It’s almost time, I asked.

      Not today, we’ve got work to do, was his gentle reply.

      Grandpa never raised his voice but seemed to always have the final word. I spent that late May 1977 afternoon in Grandpa’s garden under a sunny eastern Tennessee sky.

      *****

      The tool shed was one of my favorite places to play when I was growing up. Many hours I spent there with a wild imagination, fascinated by the various tools hanging from the walls. There were power tools and boxes of nails and drill bits in the corners and handsaws on the sides. The tool shed was special to Grandpa, so I guess it was somehow inherently special to me.

      I grabbed his favorite hoe, the one I had seen him use the previous year. It was made of old dirt-stained metal, blood and sweat were a part of its wooden handle. The seeds were on what he called the drafting table. I never actually saw him at the table, but that’s where he kept a ruler, some paper, a handful of pencils, and safety goggles. I grabbed the bag labeled Thompson’s Sweet Yellow Corn and went to the garden. Grandpa was already there, eating an apple under the shade of an oak tree while awaiting my arrival.

      Have a seat, Jack, and let me explain something before we get started, okay? Grandpa said. Without saying a word, I placed the hoe and bag of seeds on the ground, and sat in some thick grass by his side in the shade, where I was soon distracted by a ladybug walking on a wildflower petal. Grandpa cleared his throat.

      Jack, today I’ll show you what it takes to establish a healthy garden. He paused long enough to gauge my interest, and then continued, For our corn to grow tall and healthy, we need to nourish the seeds.

      Grandpa was always enjoyable to be around, especially when he had a story to tell.

      Jack, whether or not these seeds turn into big ol’ corn stalks depends on how we treat them today. If we treat them right, they’ll grow to be six or seven feet tall someday.

      Seeing I had no idea how tall six or seven feet was, he stood and put his hand over his head and looked at me with excited eyes and said, One little seed can grow this tall! They can all get this tall! If we take care of them today, tomorrow, and through summer, they’ll help fill the supper table this fall.

      He said this in a way that only he seemed able to, with polite seriousness.

      Really? I said with some doubt in my voice.

      Yes, really. And if you’re ready to get started, I’ll prove it.

      Filled with unbridled nine-year-old excitement and energy, I jumped up and screamed, Yeah! and ran two laps around the yard like a puppy turned loose in Central Park. As I saw it, Grandpa and I were about to perform a miracle: turning a single seed into a corn stalk taller than anyone I knew.

      I returned to Grandpa out of breath and gasping for air. He stood with a hearty laugh and then

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