Grampy Fernside's Arc

Chapter 3 of 16

Grampy walked back to the slate at dusk and saw the problem he had not let himself name yet. The seeds sat clean in the last light, but the air was already cooling. By dawn the stone would be wet. One night of dew would soak the shells and undo the day's drying. He had three more days of this ahead. He needed somewhere to put the seeds at night, and somewhere safe enough that he would not lie awake worrying. He checked the wooden sky clock at the edge of the garden. Its X-shaped shadow had slipped past the lower marks. He had maybe an hour before the grass turned cold. He went into the shed and took down a small wicker cover with a linen mesh lid, the one he used for moving cuttings. It would hold the seeds without crushing them and let air pass through. He carried it out, knelt by the stone, and slid the seeds in one by one. Nineteen. He counted twice. The trouble was where to set it down. The shed stayed open at night by agreement, and any open door meant damp air and small feet. He stood in the doorway with the basket against his chest and looked in. Togg was already there, curled in the patched wicker nest he kept in the back corner. He opened one eye. "Bringing me dinner?" Togg said. "Seeds," Grampy said. "Drying. One drop of dew and they're done." "Then don't leave them out." "I need them dry and safe. Both." Grampy held up the basket. "High shelf. Lid closed. You don't touch." Togg looked at the basket, then at Grampy. "Nineteen?" "Nineteen." "Top shelf is mine on cold nights. I sit there to watch the door." "Sit on the middle shelf for three nights." Togg's tail flicked once. "Four." "Three." "Four, and you leave the birdseed sack untied." Grampy thought it through. Four nights gave him a margin if the sun was weak. "Done." He set the basket on the top shelf, well back from the edge, and closed the linen lid. He hung a small wire frame beside it on a nail. He used the frame in the mornings to gather web water from the fence line, and the dry wire would tell him at a glance if the air inside the shed had turned wet overnight. If the wire beaded, he would move the seeds again. He stepped out and pulled the door to its usual gap. The sky clock showed full dusk. Behind him, Togg shifted to the middle shelf without a word. Grampy walked back to the house with his hands empty for the first time all evening. The seeds had a roof. He had four nights to dry nineteen small things into a bloom worth giving.