by Meredith Davises

Created on: July 10, 2009   Last Updated: January 14, 2011

Hot muggy days came and went with nothing more than teasing white clouds enveloping the sun with a tint of shade. May had been a month of celebrations and June contradicted May with everyone following their dreams to the nearest corners of the world. Those left behind kindled the ties of home to their own serenity.

Emma explored the old neighborhood where she had moved during the winter. As the last dribble of snow melted, Emma noticed signs of another generation who once lived here. In vacant lots remained the gardeners' legacy still prospering in their own timely season.

During the cool morning hours, Emma made a ritual to walk her two German Pointers. She had become familiar with a course that led them through abandoned alleyways lined with hemlock. Emma commanded them to a stop occasionally resting beneath fruit trees laden with unripe green fruits as she photographed the trees, another trace of the culture that once inhabited these streets.

Emma turned her dogs in another direction this morning hoping to avoid a noisy construction crew working to build a new sub-division of houses. The dogs abruptly jerked their leashes running after a small rabbit. Emma brought them to a halt. They were standing under a vine-covered canopy leading into another of the vacant lots.

Inside the lot, there was a maze of short fences covered in grape vines. At the dead end of each fence in the maze, Emma noticed an apricot tree. She was beginning to think her way out and startled by a man's voice calling to her. The voice sounded friendly as he repeated “good morning, Emma.” Before Emma could turn in his direction, the man stepped into the maze path where she was standing.

His smile was kind and accented warmth of trust beneath his gentle brown eyes. Emma's dogs stopped their sniffing exploration for the rabbits quietly resting beside her feet. Emma focused her attention more closely on this stranger. He was tall and very lean to the bone. His light blue cotton shirt and pants mirrored the morning sky and hung loosely from his shoulders and hips. His bronze skin, enriched with locks of soft platinum curls falling to his shoulders, gleamed beneath. .

Emma suddenly visualized her own appearance in the presence of this stranger. She quickly removed her hand from a worn botanical glove and pushed her eyeglasses to the bridge of her nose. Feeling a little more composed, she heard a faint timid voice within herself replying “good morning.”

“Pardon me.

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