Lake Lewisia #793

[scrubjayspeaks]

They divvied up the territory, acting out the same old squabbles over who got the shaded damp and who got the sandy soil and who would wrangle the bits that never got quite enough rain. Then each sat down to choose: a strong year for daisies and creeping turnip, a slow one for barley grass and evening's kiss, another slow step toward extinction for a handful of others. The old gods picked the flowers and fruits, vines and vegetables, picked what would grow in the seasons to come, gardeners older than the hills they seeded.

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LL#793