bearing fruit

I never actually expected to manage this one. Along with some of the other trees I did plant, I planted a jabuticaba. It is the slowest growing tree I had planted and I’m more than a little surprised at how well it has grown. One of the areas is closed off, set up in its own little greenhouse area. I keep the temperatures in there more humid, more tropical like. Several of the smaller and slighter plants have grown up wonderfully but this one, this very one tree I had never really expected to see fruits from. They grow slow and some say that it takes up to six or eight years for fruits to bear.

I have fruits. I have one of them right here in my hand and oh it is wonderful. It is worth working in this humidity to be able to hold this one fruit in my hand. I’m not sure what I’ll do with it, probably juice this one or just slice it up so Quentin and I both can have a taste of it and decide if all my hard work has paid off. I mean, when I first started this garden, most plants flowered within the first few weeks, first couple of months of being planted, something unusual considering they’d usually take much longer. It’s one of the reasons I wonder if I’m not some sort of earth or plant-born demon.

I don’t so much mind not knowing though at times it’s a bit hard to work with, hard to accept. Not knowing who or what I really might be.

Quentin gives me a strange look when I come back down into the kitchen from the second floor, I’m near literally bouncing, I can’t help myself. I’m so pleased with this one tree. It had been my one test. My one experiment. The tree I hadn’t been sure of. But now I had essentially just proven to myself that there was little I couldn’t get to grow, there was little that would resist whatever gift I might have with plants, I was happy.

I laugh brightly and set the fruit down on the counter. He looks at it and quirks a brow. I suppose it doesn’t look like much but to me it does, oh it does.

“It’s the jabuticaba. You know, that one tree in the greenhouse area? The one I wasn’t sure would give any fruits any time soon? It has, and there are so many growing! I’ll be juicing some and dropping some off over to the others of course but oh it’s just wonderful!”

He’s still looking at me with that strange sort of look though it’s melting into a snicker and now I have to be the one to blink at him. I cant my head, look at him, then down at myself (what little I can see) then back up to him. “What?”

“You’re dirty.”

“How am I being-“

“You’re not ‘being’ dirty. You’re dirty. You tracked dirt all the way down and you’re dirty.”

I frown softly, look back and there are indeed some tracks on the floor. This makes me glad we only have rug in certain rooms and even then, I think it’s only in one. I look back down to myself and I suppose my joy made me blind to the fact that I might have knelt down in some of the plant beds earlier in the greenhouse area because there is dirt on my knees, on my lower legs and more than likely under my feet since I tracked dirt all the way down.

I feel my cheeks begin to heat up to a deep blush and I stick my tongue out. It’s my best response I feel so suddenly sheepish.

“I’ll clean it up in a moment.”

“Nah, I have nothing else to do with my time, you go on and wash up, mister master fruit grower, I’ll clean up.”

“I didn’t mean to make a mess Quentin-” I’m ready to defend my case but he steps up to me and simply kisses me. A slow, sweet sort of kiss and tension escapes, I smile at him a little sheepishly when he breaks away, he smiles back, his own smile is warm and adoring.

“I wasn’t accusing you of making a mess. You’re absolutely perfect in every way and just now it was adorable seeing you bouncing with so much joy because you’ve managed the impossible. So go on and wash up, I’ll clean up the floor. If I’m done before you’re out of the shower I might join you.”

I feel the blush deepen on my cheeks but I manage a playful grin as I nod. I stand there for a moment more though and I work my shoes off. No point in tracking more dirt around the house. My shoes come off, my pants follow suit (for once I’m glad to be wearing underwear) and I bundle both up with me. I drop my shoes off in the tray I have sitting next to the stairs leading up to the second floor and my pants I drop into the washing machine, I know I have other things to wash soon so I don’t worry too much.

I take my time with the shower, not so much because of his promise to join me if he was done before me but just because I can. I like being under the water. I think back on that bubbling joy that took over me when I discovered that the tree had flowered and I sigh as I wash myself clean. My hair, my body, all of me really. I check under my nails twice to make sure I don’t have any left over dirt under there. It’s always unpleasant.

There is no Quentin joining me in the shower before I’m done and I’m fine with that. I know I made more than a little mess and I briefly feel bad for not noticing until it was essentially too late. There’s not much I can do about it now though. I shake my head to clear my thoughts as I dry up.

I listen and I hear nothing, I guess he’s done cleaning up, at least on this floor. I just hope he didn’t think he had to clean up on the second floor, that one really is my job and I would have gotten to it in the later hours. Once I’m dry enough, I stretch and I slip out of the bathroom only to find that I have company waiting for me in bed. I suppose it’s one way to join me, I don’t mind. It’s more than pleasing to come out of a good and relaxing shower to the sight of one’s lover settled on the bed and waiting for them.

I did clean up my mess on the second floor, it took me longer than it should have if only because I checked up on plants along the way. My earlier trip had only been about the checkup of my plants in the greenhouse area. I hadn’t really pampered any other on that morning so I did that. I swept the dirt into a bin, stopped by the plants, checked and fussed then swept a bit more and so on. I was tired but pleased with myself by the time I was done and not too sweaty, though I wouldn’t have minded another shower.

It’s just been a good day all around.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s