"Deep inside the forest is a door into another land,
Here is our life and home,
We are staying, here forever in the beauty of this place all alone,
We keep on hoping...
Maybe, there's a world where we won't have to run,
Maybe, there's a time we'll call our own,
Living free in harmony and majesty,
Take me home,
Take me home"
Even when I feel like the world is about to end, singing that song lifts my soul and gives me hope that all is not lost. Yes, take me back home! I digress a bit, but hunger and nostalgia will do that to even the most focused of men.
About my garden...I actually have two gardens. The first garden is a flower garden that I put in along the border of my property to keep the church worshipers from parking in my yard. I had asked them nicely to park at the church but they seemed to feel I had no claim to my land and did what they liked until I put the flower garden in. It seems even the most devout believer refuses to drive over my daisies! At least this was true until a couple of years ago when the local church filled a complaint with the Homeland Administration for Religious Services. A few days later my lovely flower garden was paved over with a sidewalk that leads directly to the house of God.
I amble over to my veggie garden, carefully hiding in shadows, which is fairly easy to do at night. My small village only had a few street lights including the old farm light pole next to my garden, but none of those lights work. There is a faint glow from a fire down the street. The acrid smoke from the blaze hangs on the air like a morning campground the day after a major holiday.
I grow a lot of heritage tomatoes, asparagus, melons, squash, lettuces, chives, corn, potatoes, sweet potatoes and quite a few grapes, peaches, cherries, and even a variety of kiwi. I am at home in the garden and will gladly lose myself tending to weeds, removing harmful insects and encouraging praying mantis and lady bugs to work their magic. A quick inspection of my garden confirms my worst fears. It is gone. All gone! Not even a green tomato is left. Damn vandals! Where do they come from? Why can't they go somewhere else? I had always thought that living in a small village where everyone knew each other would afford me a certain level of respect, if not respect... privacy.
As I leave the garden to head back inside, I kick something with my foot in the darkness. Fumbling on the ground I find a handful of rifle casing which don't really interest me, but there is something else. Its metal, the size of my hand and feels like an old Sony Walkman. I slip it into my pocket and retreat to the house.