Lyme always thought the phrase "green hoof" was funny, all things considered. She smiled to herself as she gently tended the strawberries she had cultivated from wild plants a couple of years ago, making sure not to bruise the fruit. They weren't quite ready yet, still half-green and wouldn't be as flavorful. Her garden had started as a clearing project. Lyme had found a nice small clearing next to a clean stream, but it was full of tall grass, vines, and bracken that she'd had to get rid of before she could consider this place a true home. In her efforts, she'd found several wild fruits and vegetables growing, and decided to try her hoof at purposefully gardening. What could it hurt? Either the plants would die off in her care, or they'd thrive. Turns out, it was the latter. Lyme was a natural gardener, carefully watering and trimming until she had a plot that looked like it could pass for a real garden. Lyme had also built herself a nice little hut that kept the rain off and the wind out in the mean time. She'd traded some of her first harvest for a cooking pot, and was considering making jam and pickling, but she wanted to get more from her harvests before she started.
As her mind wandered, Lyme deftly swept away budding weeds and suckers that would steal nutrients the main plants would need to survive. When she finished with the strawberries, she inspected her work, and with a nod moved to the blackberry bush she'd kept trimmed back. It was only flowering now; it wouldn't bear fruit until later in the summer, but it had the habit of encroaching on the other parts of the garden, so she trimmed it back every so often to keep it under control. Lyme had found a pair of hand shears and other tools outside of a human settlement during her early travels that had proved useful time and again, and they had become her best defense to keep the rest of the garden from the obnoxious, yet delicious, blackberries.
She snipped carefully, not only to avoid the thorns, but also to make sure she didn't distort the shape she'd trimmed the briar into. It really wouldn't have been that bad to accidentally cut too deep in, but she would have had to look at her mistake until it filled back in, and it was best to avoid it altogether. Trimming the briar took less time than clearing the strawberries had been, and Lyme found herself standing back to admire her handywork. With a self-satisfied nod, she dropped the shears in the basket where she kept her tools and began cleaning up the clippings.
After dumping the clippings in her debris pile, Lyme moved onto her largest section by far: the potatoes. She'd been surprised when she'd discovered her scraps that she'd buried had sprouted and spread. They didn't need a lot of tending, but she still had to clean up when they grew too close together.
Starting at the front of the plot, Lyme gently examined the tubers, pulling the ones she deemed large enough, and leaving the little ones to continue growing. When she was through one row, she realized she should have put on her satchel, and went and retrieved it from her hut. Walking back through the row and picking up the potatoes she dug up, Lyme continued her work through the rest of the plot until her satchel was full. She noted this was more than her last harvest, and made a mental note to get another bag at the market when she took her extra to trade. Heck, she might have to start a second plot and use those just for the market. Lyme chuckled to herself as she thought of starting her own potato stall. "Lyme's Potatoes" definitely sounded silly, but maybe that could be a good thing.
Lyme hummed to herself as she took her bag back inside, dropping it in a cool corner away from the door with the rest of the fruits and veggies she'd harvested previously. She continued humming as she made her way to the last plot, a nice section of various-colored carrots. Lyme chuckled again as she looked at their cute bushy little tops. They always tickled her nose, and made her giggle. Clucking her tongue, she realized she forgot her other basket, and trotted over to grab it from where it lay next to her tools.
Setting the basket down, Lyme began uprooting the carrots, wiggling them around a bit to loosen them up before pulling them free from the earth. She giggled with every pull, and felt at peace with the late-spring sun on her back and the sound of the creek behind her.
It was later than she thought it should have been by the time Lyme finished, sweat dripping down her face and body. The sun had moved from the middle of the sky and had begun it's descent towards the western horizon, leaving a nice shady spot against the forest. She took her basket there, and lay in the shade to rest, plucking a carrot off the top and savoring the sweetness and surveying her little slice of peace.
After her carrot was gone, Lyme rose and took her basket inside, setting it next to the potatoes. She sorted them out, the amount to keep for eating and replanting and what to trade with, then went back out to gather water in her pot and start a cooking fire. She'd take her satchel and go in the morning to trade for another one and whatever else she could barter for. But, that was tomorrow. Tonight, she would finish up her day with a nice potato and carrot soup and a cool bath in the stream.
Lyme put the carrots and potatoes she wanted to use for her dinner in the now-empty basket, deciding to take it with her to wash the dirt off of them before plopping them in her soup. She submerged herself in the water, the cool stream washing off the day's dirt. She would have stayed in longer, but after a few minutes, her stomach began to grumble, and with a reluctant heave, she left the stream to plop her basket down in front of her fire. She pulled a flat stone she used to chop and a knife, and roughly chopped her veggies, plunking them in the water.
Soon, their delicious smell wafted around the clearing, and she was more than happy to have a good meal to end her day. Lyme sat around her fire as the moon began to show over the trees, quietly humming as she put her space to rights before bed. At last, she doused the fire and toddled off, pleased with her efforts of the day, and looking forward to seeing her friends at the market in the morning. Lyme fell asleep with a full belly and a smile, content in her little corner of the world.
WC: 1176
