Give me what you've got for: the ghost in the orchard.
Because with the white netting on the cherry trees, it looks rather ghostly over there. I shall have to get a picture of it.
Had a good day off, as there was much sunshine and resting to go around. Did a little bit of work in the yard this afternoon before going up to join Kat's parents for a Father's Day dinner. He did up a nice turkey dinner and Kat brought the dessert - a strawberry pie with a pecan crust. Yum.
She stood beneath the tree that had been her favorite through all the years of her childhood. Third row up from the street, fifth tree in. There was just something about the curves and texture of the branches. And she had always been convinced it produced the sweetest cherries in the whole orchard. The entire valley, even.
She closed her eyes.
The wind played with the leaves and carried the scents of the blossoms to her nostrils. She breathed deep. The years peeled away and she could feel herself shrinking, her adult body returning to its adolescence. The sun stepped behind a cloud and the air grew colder.
She thought of her little brother.
His insistently uncombed brown hair. The always smiling lips. The laugh that could be heard in every corner of the orchard, no matter where he might be. The permanent dirt stain on his left cheek. She smiled as her thoughts turned to their cherry spitting contests - always done out of sight of their parents, but the winner invariably too proud to keep their victory secret for long.
She felt his icy, tiny hand take hold of her fingers.
Her eyes remained closed, though her breathing became more laboured. Silent tears formed in the corners of her eyes but she dared not blink them away. For even the briefest of openings would allow her eyes to return to the present.
And she was not ready to be without her brother again quite yet.