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    Lottie's Patch
    Lottie's Patch
    Lottie's Patch
    Ebook156 pages2 hours

    Lottie's Patch

    By Marilyn McPherson

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    About this ebook

    Like the companion plants in their vegetable patch, Lottie and Walter Brown’s long marriage had been enriched by their mutual care. Their daily lives revolved around the rich bounty harvested from the patch given freely to the neighbours who shared their small cul-de-sac. Theirs was a simple quiet existence until a new season brought change, and Lottie’s patch would never be the same again.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMarilyn McPherson
    Release dateMar 22, 2013
    ISBN9781301604470
    Lottie's Patch
    Author

    Marilyn McPherson

    I live in Melbourne, Australia and have a full-time office job, but my real passion is writing. I write on the train to and from work most days in a notepad and type it up on the weekend. My email address is MarilynGMcPherson@gmail.com if you want to email me about any of my books. Thanks to everyone who has left a review.

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      Book preview

      Lottie's Patch - Marilyn McPherson

      Lottie’s Patch

      Marilyn McPherson

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright © 2013 by Marilyn McPherson

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      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 purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Books by this author:

      A Family Affair

      A Family Affair - First Born

      A Family Affair - Next of Kin

      The Faithful Watcher

      Lottie’s Patch

      Stray

      Note to Reader

      This novel is written in Australian English.

      Acknowledgement

      This book is dedicated to my mother Elaine who encouraged me to write about something I know.

      Gardening adds years to your life and life to your years

      - Anon

      Chapter 1

      September

      Lottie and Walter Brown had lived in their quiet cul-de-sac for over fifty-five years. They moved there on the day after their wedding, and never left. Their house was modest and simple, and outdated in comparison to the neighbours’ more modern designs. But although the paint was now peeling on the front fence, and one of the front windows cracked, it was the perfect home for them, and it met their every need.

      Walter proposed marriage to Lottie for the first time when she was only fifteen. She had said no of course, given her young age, and the strictness of her father, but Walter had not been put off. He had proposed again every few months for the next three years until she had said yes.

      He was seven years older than she, but the two of them had known each other since they were children. Walter had always said there could be no girl for him but Lottie, and if Lottie had refused him, he would have stayed a bachelor for the rest of his days. He needn’t have worried. Lottie grew up admiring Walter, and dreaming of one day becoming his wife.

      Walter hadn’t gone to university, and had left school early to undertake an apprenticeship as a painter. This was a decision that worried Lottie’s father, as he saw the connection between the young painter and his daughter growing. He hadn’t wanted Lottie to become a painter’s wife, so had insisted she wait until the age of eighteen before agreeing to marry Walter. He thought the passage of time would instil sense into his daughter, and hoped she would change her mind.

      Perhaps Lottie’s father had wanted her to marry an accountant or lawyer. He had never specified an ideal list of occupations. To his dismay, their engagement had been short, and Lottie married Walter as soon as her final year at school was finished.

      In trying to win Lottie’s father over, Walter had dedicated himself to his chosen profession, determined to be the best provider for Lottie that he could. Within a few short years, his industrious attitude paid off, and he was successfully operating his own business. On the day of their marriage, Lottie’s father gave his daughter away, resigned to her choice. Although he never admitted it to anyone, he had been secretly amazed that Walter had saved enough money to buy a home for his daughter.

      And so Walter and Lottie had moved into their quiet cul-de-sac in Lottie’s eighteenth year. Their marriage had survived many decades, despite being tested by the discovery that Lottie was unable to have children, some years after their nuptials. Contrary to Lottie’s fears, Walter never left her side. He needed her love and companionship more than anything else life could offer, and over time they adjusted their expectations of the future. They supported each other when their parents passed away and later when some of their friends passed on too. Each year that ticked by only strengthened their bond, and they could not imagine living without each other.

      During her working life, Lottie taught at the local primary school, but both she and Walter had long since retired. Lottie was now in her mid-seventies and Walter in his early eighties. Their marriage had grown over time from a romantic relationship into a loving companionship enriched by the quiet time they spent together every day. Lottie’s primary hobby was growing fruit and vegetables in her backyard, and although Walter’s thumb was not particularly green, he was more than happy to lend a hand when directed towards a particular task. They spent many hours every week working together in the backyard this way, conversing about this and that.

      Their street was located in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne, Australia, and gardeners like Lottie acknowledged the hot dry summers as a challenge, but appreciated the mild winters and lack of frost. It was possible to produce fresh food for the kitchen all year round in a climate such as this, although the period from late spring to autumn was, by far, the most productive.

      Their backyard was larger than the neighbours’ due to some irregular subdivisions back in the early 1900s when the area had been first settled. Every square inch of their backyard was contributing its fair share of produce. The far part of the yard served as a mini orchard. Dividing the yard into two allowed Walter to build a solid wire cage around three apple trees, a plum, quince, pear and nectarine. The cage kept birds and possums away from the fruit, and meant that netting was not needed during summer. Kiwi and passionfruit vines grew on each side of the cage providing additional fruit, and softening the look of the cage. The other half of the orchard contained citrus trees including lime, grapefruit, three oranges, lemon, cumquat and mandarin. None of these trees required protecting from birds or other pests, and the evergreen nature of the citrus leaves was visually pleasing all year round.

      Closer to the house, the yard had been divided equally into six large plots for vegetable growing, leaving no space for grass. The soil was deep and rich brown in colour, nothing like the sandy bleached soils naturally present in this area. Years of digging homemade compost into the ground had improved its productivity remarkably. The backyard was Lottie’s greatest joy and brought countless visitors each year from the local gardening group of which she was a member.

      In contrast to Lottie and Walter’s backyard, the neighbours’ backyards in their cul-de-sac were stark and sterile. On the odd occasion when Lottie caught a glimpse over the fence, she would shake her head in wonder. It seemed such a shame they didn’t use their space more productively. The neighbours who owned dogs had messy yards with scattered rubbish, and the neighbours with young children had neglected yards filled with agapanthus and broken playthings. There was evidence that some of the neighbours had made an effort in the past, but had long since given up.

      Old Reg Simpson who lived alone next door at number six was the only exception in the street. His backyard was created to house his favourite animals in the world – chickens. Reg kept about forty hens at any one time, plus a couple of roosters. There were bantams, silkies, and brown hens. There were seven sheds to house and protect the birds at night, but during the day, his ladies wandered free-range throughout the yard, digging and scratching for worms and insects. He even created a special coop for the older hens which were no longer laying, and called this area the retirement home. It was certainly not a beautiful yard by any stretch of the imagination, but number six was especially productive. Reg happily provided free eggs to all the residents in the cul-de-sac through the months of September to April. During the winter months, the chickens laid fewer eggs, and the cul-de-sac’s residents would begin purchasing their eggs again at the local stores.

      Roma, who lived across the road at number three, once suggested to Lottie, perhaps unkindly, that Reg only provided the eggs free of charge to stop the neighbours complaining to the local council about the noise. Roma was Lottie’s closest friend and lived directly opposite her and Walter. She was in her fifties and had never married, living alone with only a cat or two for company.

      Lottie knew that Reg needed to keep at least one rooster for breeding new chicks, and although the noise sometimes woke her up in the morning, for the most part, she did not mind the birds. In any case, the neighbourhood had struck a healthy balance. Everyone received free eggs, and no-one complained to the local council about the early morning clamour.

      Reg had no respect for the local council’s limit of eight hens per household. He considered their forbidding of roosters altogether to be plain nonsense, and not worth his giving it a second thought. Lottie often thought he would be lost without all the birds to keep him company, and wondered why he had not married.

      It was not unusual for Lottie to spend a few hours in the garden each morning. As the sun was out, this morning was no exception. She observed that most of the fruit trees were covered in buds, apart from the plum tree which was already smothered by colourful blossom. It was a crisp but promising spring morning, with not a cloud in the sky. September had finally arrived, and there was no reason to delay further the planting of new season potatoes.

      Lottie put on her old green trousers and a thick pair of socks to wear inside her boots. She put a windcheater over her jumper, and grabbed her favourite wide-brimmed straw hat. Walter had recently dug over one of the empty plots, removing weeds and aerating the soil. Lottie looked over his work admiringly. Soon, it would be filled with the lush strong growth of potato tubers. She took her mattock and dug a deep trough all the way along the bed in a line. A second trough was dug parallel to the first, and so on, until half the patch was prepared this way. The potato seed had been sitting in the shed for six weeks and was covered in little shoots. Lottie cut some of the larger potatoes in half and placed the pieces into the trough about forty centimetres apart. She watered them briefly and backfilled the earth until none could be seen. Lottie knew that it wouldn’t be long before little shoots poked their heads into the light, and the earth began to fill with the new growth of potatoes.

      After washing her hands and shaking the dirt from her clothes, Lottie found Walter inside reading exactly where she had left him an hour earlier.

      Oh sorry, love, he said, looking up. I was just about to come out. Do you need a hand out there?

      Lottie shook her head. No, stay there, Walt. I’m finished for the morning.

      I got caught up in my book.

      I didn’t do anything too strenuous. I just planted the potato seed.

      Your potatoes always taste better than those store-bought ones, he said, his focus returning to the book. He was always saying things like that.

      I might go visit Roma, Lottie told him.

      Right-o. I’ll leave you ladies to natter without me, then.

      Lottie changed out of her gardening clothes and put on an extra-warm woollen jumper. She briefly considered what Roma might like from the garden. Spinach and broccoli were her perennial favourites. Taking a basket from the kitchen, and a garden knife, Lottie headed back outside. One corner of the patch was abundant with spinach at the moment, and it was easy to pick from some of the plants without damaging them too much.

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