{"id":18530,"date":"2020-12-23T09:04:45","date_gmt":"2020-12-23T17:04:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/mixhart.ca\/blog\/?p=18530"},"modified":"2020-12-30T09:30:08","modified_gmt":"2020-12-30T17:30:08","slug":"a-rose-garden-chapter-5","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/index.php\/a-rose-garden-chapter-5\/","title":{"rendered":"A Rose Garden Chapter 5"},"content":{"rendered":"<h2><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-18490 aligncenter\" src=\"http:\/\/mixhart.ca\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"588\" height=\"588\" srcset=\"https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl.jpg 889w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-300x300.jpg 300w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-150x150.jpg 150w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-768x768.jpg 768w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-540x540.jpg 540w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-270x270.jpg 270w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-730x730.jpg 730w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-365x365.jpg 365w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-520x520.jpg 520w, https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/CINZEl-260x260.jpg 260w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 588px) 100vw, 588px\" \/><\/h2>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<h2 style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong>A Rose Garden<\/strong><\/h2>\n<h4 style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong>Chapter 5<\/strong><\/h4>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Everything was dry. Elsa\u2019s online counseling calls dried up. She was relieved, spared from imparting positivity and wisdom that she no longer held\u2026Elsa had dried up too. The monotony as a mountain-top prisoner living in a cloud of toxic air had shriveled what was left of her sanguinity. She sat in the SUV beside Hugo, as he drove down the mountain to pick up take-out from Taco-Pogo. It was her first time off the mountain in three days.<\/p>\n<p>The car smelled stale, like garlic and old cooking oil. Elsa traced the scent to her own pony tail. She couldn\u2019t recall when she\u2019d last washed her hair.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI can\u2019t move in with Wyatt,\u201d Flora said from the back seat. \u201cHis step-mom hates me and no one in his family is social distancing\u2014they all work with the public. His step-mom works at the hospital. His Dad works at the airport. His step-sisters go back and forth from Wyatt\u2019s house to their dad\u2019s house.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWyatt\u2019s working with the public, Flora. He can\u2019t come back and live with us again\u2014if you want to be in his social bubble, you\u2019ll have to isolate from us too.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDidn\u2019t you hear? I can\u2019t live at Wyatt\u2019s\u2014what\u2019s the point of anything? I\u2019ll be trapped at home with my parents, unemployed, like some dumb-fuck gamer, for the rest of my life!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s only temporary. As soon as we have a few weeks with no new cases, things will be back to normal\u2014look at New Zealand. You can still meet him for evening walks downtown. Leroy loves that.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s the point of that? It\u2019s stupid. I\u2019d rather not see Wyatt at all than to have to stay six feet away from him!\u201d Flora shouted. \u201cI don\u2019t understand why Wyatt can\u2019t come back if we move into the basement.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Elsa regretted getting in the car. She should have stayed at home with Oscar and played another round of crazy-eights. \u201cNone of this is my fault. I didn\u2019t bring COVID across the ocean. I didn\u2019t spray the country with glyphosate and give your dad Parkinson\u2019s\u2014I\u2019m trying to protect the family. That is all I am guilty of,\u201d Elsa said, her voice rising in frustration.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis is bullshit\u2014you\u2019re being horrible! I\u2019m moving out! Stop the car. Stop the car, I want to get out!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFlora. It\u2019s okay. You don\u2019t have to move out. We\u2019ll work something out,\u201d Hugo interjected, calmly.<\/p>\n<p>Elsa glared at his profile as he drove through downtown. He\u2019d sat silent through the entire conversation, left her on the front lines alone, and then he decides to speak up, only to undermine her. \u201cStop the car\u2014seriously, stop the car, Hugo! Flora can stay, I\u2019m the one getting out\u2014go home. I\u2019ll walk.\u201d Elsa closed the door with enough force to be dramatic without actually slamming it.<\/p>\n<p>Hugo followed her slowly in the car. She walked in the direction of the mountain. \u201cGet in Elle. You can\u2019t walk home. It\u2019s not safe for you to be in the smoke with your asthma,\u201d Hugo said, in robotic calmness. She crossed the street. \u201cElsa!\u201d Hugo called in frustration.<\/p>\n<p>Hugo was right, climbing the mountain in the heat and smoke would hurt her lungs. It would take her close to two hours on a clear morning. Tonight, in the heat and smoke, she would be out until past sunset. She didn\u2019t have her inhaler or her phone, but there was no way she would willingly get back in the car. Flora\u2019s intolerable sense of entitlement and Hugo\u2026 it was too much. Elsa glanced behind. Hugo made a U-turn and drove away, in the opposite direction that she was walking. Certainly, he could see that she\u2019d left her phone in the car! Elsa knew that she would never abandon someone in the heat and smoke, near sunset\u2014even if she hated them. She walked past a minuscule corner store with a neon Orange Crush sign. It looked half a century out of place, somewhere she would have stopped at to buy penny candy in her childhood. Thank god she hadn\u2019t washed the thin hoodie she had tied around her waist\u2014it still held the change from the twenty she\u2019d given to Oscar for the ice cream truck weeks ago. A little bell jingled from above as she slipped inside the door. She didn\u2019t need caffeine, her anger at Hugo was fuel, but she purchased a bottle of iced coffee to be safe.<\/p>\n<p>Hugo never backed her up in front of the children\u2014he either remained silent or coddled them. Flora was a princess but it was the fault of the ineffectual king who lived within the barriers of his own grief\u2026and Elsa\u2014the matriarch who\u2019d been trying to hold the jalopy of the family together since the Parkinson\u2019s diagnosis and beyond, through the COIVD nightmare\u2014was crumbling along with her queendom. She reached what she knew to be the base of the\u2014now invisible\u2014mountain and walked along the shore of the shrouded lake. At least the path was relatively flat, saving her lungs for the climb that she knew was coming. The sky was sunless. The only hint that the massive fireball existed was that its flames turned the smoky sky an alien, Mars-orange. Elsa reached the trail that led to Rosa. Upwards she climbed, through dust-dry dirt and loose rock, until her sport sandals slipped backward. She scrambled up, holding onto branches and roots, pulling herself along the goat-like trail. Her lungs shut out the soot, making it impossible to take a deep breath.<\/p>\n<p>The climb was reckless. She knew how dangerous smoke particulates were. They entered the blood through the lungs and clogged the hearts of even the healthiest athletes. She glanced at the trees within view, finding comfort in the orange-striped older trees\u2019 bark. The mature ponderosas were beacons of calm\u2014matriarchs in a sea of smoke. If she needed, she\u2019d stop and catch her breath beneath the ponderosas. With their support and the iced-coffee, she could make it to the top.<\/p>\n<p>The coffee bottle was empty by the time she reached Rosa. The orange sky had turned slate. Soon she\u2019d be in complete darkness. Even a harvest moon would not penetrate the smog. Elsa sat at Rosa\u2019s base, closed her smoke-irritated eyes, and coughed to clear her lungs. \u201cThe queen has fucked up,\u201d she said. Elsa knew that Flora\u2019s entitlement was partly caused by her own fear of setting limits for the children. Hugo\u2019s Parkinson\u2019s diagnosis, then COVID, and now, living in a lifeless smoke void\u2026so many reasons to go easy on the kids, to not add any more stress to their young lives. Yet, maybe, slack boundaries were not what they needed\u2026. Regardless, Elsa had stepped down from her throne\u2014allowed disease to invade her world and dictate her life. The disease wasn\u2019t Parkinson\u2019s, Parkinson\u2019s was a symptom. Disease festered within the government and spread through the designer forests they created. The smoke that shut down her life was not caused by natural forest fires, but firestorms: designer forest infernos\u2014first growth, matchstick trees. There was nothing left to slow the fires. The old-growth had all been logged, water-heavy deciduous trees forcefully eliminated. The only trees remaining were young, pine or fir\u2014standing like a box of match sticks, waiting to ignite. Their fires burned so hotly, they were unstoppable, incinerating everything in their path. Nothing could regenerate once a new growth forest burned. It was a country, a continent, a world, of designer forest plantations. There was no understory in a designer forest. Helicopters sprayed poison to make sure of it. Poison that invaded every living thing within miles\u2014poison that had leached into Hugo, attacking his life, and then moving through his family, the collateral damage of its toxic trail.<\/p>\n<p>Rosa was old growth. She didn\u2019t burn. She was all that remained of the forest matriarchs. The others, long gone\u2014ground into toilet paper for an international array of asses. \u201cI will be like you, Rosa\u2014I will not burn,\u201d Elsa said.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">&#x1f339;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Streaks of sun fell onto the bed and across Elsa\u2019s face. The sky between the shutters was cerulean. She sprang from bed and rushed onto the balcony. The wind had shifted, blown the smoke back whence it had come. A symphony of birds celebrated the pristine air. It was a shock after days of silence. Each breath of clean air felt like a miracle. She recognized the small corner of the lake, miles below, and the trees on the mountain behind the house. She harnessed Leroy and slipped through the back gate.<\/p>\n<p>The balsamroot silver-green leaves crackled like rustling paper as Leroy brushed them side to sniff at their base. The entire mountain was illuminated in sunshine-yellow, balsam-root flowers\u2014the flowers showed signs of wear. Elsa had missed their spring debut\u2014the smoke had concealed all that was beautiful. Elsa reached the giant ponderosa, embraced her robust friend, inhaled her vanilla fragrance, and then took a seat in the long, crispy, brown needles at her base. She leaned against the tree. Relief flowed from Rosa into Elsa. The fresh air had caused such excitement that she\u2019d forgotten to pack a thermos of tea. She scanned the forests beneath them, from her high vantage point, she could pretend the mountain wasn\u2019t dehydrated. She saturated her mind with the impossibly blue sky, the deep azure lake, and the canopy of moss-green ponderosa tops, and the darker, emerald firs. If and until the smoke returned, she would not waste a moment of the clean air. She <em>would<\/em> rise before six, for the rest of the summer, to fully embrace the miracle that was a morning on the mountain, simply breathing.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The doorbell rang. Leroy lost it, bolted down the stairs, and barked ferociously at the front door. \u201cKennel!\u201d Elsa called. Leroy paused his barking momentarily. \u201cKennel, Leroy, Kennel!\u201d She repeated in an artificially low, and slow intonation. Leroy sunk his head between his powerful shoulders. His nails tapped as he ascended the staircase. He trotted into his kennel and then lay down in a defeated sigh. Elsa locked him in the kennel and then walked onto the balcony and gazed below, at the front door. It was the neighbour, Richard. She hadn\u2019t seen a trace of him since COVID hit, although she continued to smell him. \u201cHello?\u201d Elsa called. Richard looked around, disoriented. \u201cLook up,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, hi\u2014I just stopped by to let you know that there\u2019s a fire on the mountain. Cops asked me to alert the immediate neighbours, to get the message around, in case we have to evacuate. \u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAre you serious? Where?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThey said it\u2019s on the other side of the mountain, near the lake. The wind is keeping it down low, along the shore, but if that changes, we could be in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Elsa thought of Rosa.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Flora ignored her mother\u2019s call. Elsa called again, resisting the urge to storm into Flora\u2019s room. Surely, the urgency in her tone would stir Flora\u2019s curiosity.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m in my room,\u201d Flora said, in a bored voice, only just loud enough to be heard. Elsa didn\u2019t have time to play games. She rushed to Flora\u2019s room, knocked once, and opened the door. Flora was scanning rental properties on the internet despite not having an income.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThere\u2019s a fire on the other side of the mountain. I texted Dad to come home. Can you text Wyatt to come over too? We need to gather photos, computers, art, small antiques. We\u2019ll store them in boxes in the garage in case we have to take them down the mountain.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWyatt works until five. Why can\u2019t Oscar help?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe can, but he\u2019s so afraid of fires. I don\u2019t want to say anything to him\u2014yet\u2014let me tell him if the time comes.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhere is he, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe\u2019s paddle-boarding with the fab-four. Someone has to drive down to Tugboat Beach at five and pick him up. I hope he can\u2019t see the fire from the lake. He\u2019ll freak.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Elsa texted James\u2019 mom, to ask her if she could pick-up Oscar\u2014and his board\u2014and take<\/p>\n<p>them to her place. Through her side gaze, she saw Flora haul a large suitcase into her bedroom. Elsa\u2019s phone pinged. She peeked into Flora\u2019s room and said, \u201cOscar doesn\u2019t need pick-up\u2014he\u2019s going to James for supper.\u201d Flora was focused on gathering items from her closet in\u2014what seemed to Elsa to be\u2014slow-motion speed, as though she was causally packing for a vacation. Elsa sped through the house, gathering the things she had written on the list in her brain that she\u2019d edited on smoke-filled nights when she was unable to sleep.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Wyatt arrived in his father\u2019s car, his first time back since he\u2019d moved out. Flora met him on the driveway. A plane rumbled overhead, so close to the house that Elsa could see that the pilot was wearing sunglasses\u2014a water-bomber, carrying a huge bucket of lake water to dump on the fire. \u201cWhere is your father\u2014he said he\u2019d be right home!\u201d Elsa snapped. She led Wyatt into the open garage, to the underground sprinkler panel. \u201cPut them full-on, indefinitely. We\u2019ll give everything a good soak tonight. We\u2019ll keep things wet until the fire\u2019s out.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI can\u2019t believe Oscar hasn\u2019t called or texted in a panic over whether or not he\u2019s allowed inside James&#8217; house,\u201d Flora said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYeah,\u201d Elsa said, distracted. The water bomber flew over again, on its way back to the lake to refill its bucket.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Wyatt\u2019s father\u2019s car was parked in the drive so Hugo parked on the street. He attempted to slip in through the front door unnoticed, and disappear, undisturbed, somewhere inside the house until supper time. Elsa hustled through the garage side door and met him at the entrance.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat took you so bloody long?\u201d She didn\u2019t wait for the excuse that he was forming. \u201cI need you to drive the first load of in-valuables down the mountain to store in your office.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI can\u2019t right now,\u201d he said and slipped past her to the staircase.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat do you mean, you can\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI will\u2014if we have to evacuate.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Hugo\u2019s doubt added to Elsa\u2019s burden but she didn\u2019t falter. She trusted her instinct when the safety of her family was concerned. She saw things that others didn\u2019t\u2014the big picture, but also all the little details. She wasn\u2019t even fully aware of all that she took in. It was processed in the realm of her subconscious and was communicated to Elsa through her intuition. What others didn\u2019t have, they couldn\u2019t comprehend.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The wind changed. Wyatt and Flora led the line down the mountain in his father\u2019s car. Leroy rode shotgun in the convertible with Elsa, and Hugo brought up the rear in the SUV, packed pressure-cooker tight.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>COVID travel restrictions meant that the campground was unusually quiet. A sign<\/p>\n<p>at the entrance warned of a grizzly roaming the campground earlier that week. The children insisted that they pitch the tents near the riverbank, with only a patch of thimbleberry bushes between the tents and the water\u2019s edge. Elsa didn\u2019t discourage it, yet she secretly wondered if they\u2019d have to move them once darkness fell on the sparsely populated campground and anxious minds made the connection between berry patches and grizzly bears.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIs Oscar <em>still<\/em> at the toilet?\u201d Elsa asked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe\u2019s okay. He\u2019s got Leroy with him,\u201d Hugo said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCan you go check on them?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI see him on the road. He\u2019s coming.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI counted\u2014only thirteen sites are taken,\u201d Oscar shouted from the road.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow many sites does it have in total?\u201d Elsa asked, once Oscar reached their driveway.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe\u2019re in number seventy-nine, and there\u2019s about eight more after us\u2014so probably about<\/p>\n<p>ninety,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s less than a quarter full. No wonder we snagged a site on the river bank.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis is so cool!\u201d Oscar said. \u201cWe\u2019ve never been able to get a campsite on the river\u00a0before.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>His face was animated with youthful exuberance. It was the Oscar that Elsa remembered from before COVID. \u201cIt is a real treat. I\u2019ve never been able to book one in time. I guess there are some perks to COIVD,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n<p>Hugo walked the serpentine campground road. His cell phone was periodically glued to his ear or held high above his head as he squinted at its screen. Elsa knew from past experience, that cell service at Blanket Creek was sketchy, but it was the only place that she and the children were willing to go; it was the campground they had tented at each summer since the children were babies. Elsa found comfort in the old-growth cedar and towering hemlocks. She placed a camp chair in the space between Flora and Wyatt\u2019s backcountry tent and the family tent, just beyond the shade of a grand cedar but close enough to inhale its calming scent. She turned the chair so that she could catch views of both the river and the kids playing volleyball on the dirt road. Everything was green. The oxygen-heavy temperate rainforest air felt to Elsa like an almost tropical escape from the arid smoke at home. Happiness had returned to Flora; she\u2019d been beaming since Wyatt\u2019s father had dropped him off. Leroy\u2019s head bobbed from side to side as he watched the ball for a moment. He grew either bored or dizzy and sauntered towards Elsa\u2019s chair and then flopped down at her feet. Elsa opened a paperback that she\u2019d been trying to read since lockdown. With Hugo and his pacing out of view, she eased into a blissful, dog-day of summer\u2014temporarily forgetting the reason that they were there.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<h5>\u00a0\u00a9Mix Hart 2020<\/h5>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; A Rose Garden Chapter 5 &nbsp; Everything was dry. Elsa\u2019s online counseling calls dried up. She was relieved, spared from imparting positivity and wisdom that she no longer held\u2026Elsa had dried up too. The monotony as a mountain-top prisoner &hellip; <a class=\"kt-excerpt-readmore\" href=\"https:\/\/blog.mixhart.ca\/index.php\/a-rose-garden-chapter-5\/\" aria-label=\"A Rose Garden Chapter 5\">Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":18490,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"kt_blocks_editor_width":"","_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3699],"tags":[3725,3723,3720,3718,3719,3717,3338,3715,3716,3339,3721,3722,3727,3726,3728,3724,2714,3710,3517,1904,3730,3712,3714,3,3729,3709,3370,3713,3711,349],"class_list":["post-18530","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-narrative","tag-amreading","tag-author","tag-bibliophile","tag-book","tag-bookish","tag-booklover","tag-booknerd","tag-books","tag-bookworm","tag-drama","tag-familylife","tag-literature","tag-modernlife","tag-storyteller","tag-westcoastlife","tag-writer","tag-canadian-author","tag-covid-living","tag-family","tag-family-life","tag-family-saga","tag-fiction","tag-literary-serial","tag-mix-hart","tag-new-book","tag-novelette","tag-reading","tag-short-story","tag-surviving-covid","tag-writing"],"aioseo_notices":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":3699,"label":"Narrative"}],"post_tag":[{"value":3725,"label":"#amreading"},{"value":3723,"label":"#author"},{"value":3720,"label":"#bibliophile"},{"value":3718,"label":"#book"},{"value":3719,"label":"#bookish"},{"value":3717,"label":"#booklover"},{"value":3338,"label":"#booknerd"},{"value":3715,"label":"#books"},{"value":3716,"label":"#bookworm"},{"value":3339,"label":"#drama"},{"value":3721,"label":"#familylife"},{"value":3722,"label":"#literature"},{"value":3727,"label":"#ModernLife"},{"value":3726,"label":"#storyteller"},{"value":3728,"label":"#WestCoastLife"},{"value":3724,"label":"#writer"},{"value":2714,"label":"Canadian 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