Sticks and Girl

My daughter picks at dirt on the cuff on her jeans, troubled by this, which interests me. She’s a remarkably easy and even-tempered girl, and I sometimes wonder at her own and distinctive understanding of the world’s order.

In my bare root order, I have a handful of what seem to be sticks with filigreed root balls. Walking behind our garden in the damp April evening, she asks me if I’ll still live here when these sticks become trees.

I’m planting for the property, I answer. That answer suffices for her. She stands with me, as we envision stick widening into trunk, twig fattening into branch.


About Brett Ann Stanciu

A writer and sugarmaker, Brett Ann lives with her two daughters in stony soil Vermont. Her novel HIDDEN VIEW was published by Green Writers Press in the fall of 2015. Let my writing speak for itself.
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9 Responses to Sticks and Girl

  1. A profound thinker, your gal. As is the answer you give her with your usual wise grace.

  2. Lovely and wise. Both of you.

  3. Maggie says:

    So wonderful to witness a child who ponders her life and her surroundings. What a blessing.

  4. She really is a blessing! And fun!

  5. smilecalm says:

    touching family
    contemplation 🙂

  6. Eric Fisher says:

    Your post reminded me of something that just sits quietly in the background. Time has a way of deceiving us, the growth of trees I’ve planted makes the passage clearer to me than a number in my mind.

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