Day 71

She looks like she could come up out of deep  water perfectly dry and standing extra tall with her waist-length hair and long skirts. Her figure is narrow and long and graceful.  Her curves lean, slight against her slender body.  And there is something so gentle and serene in the way she quietly drinks tea and listens; just listens.  She is earthen and motherly in a way that makes you suspect she could be mother earth herself.  It must have something to do with the way the soil mounds as though she whispered a secret to it and it rose up to listen.  Her secret worked because plants flourish in those maternal mounds of hers.  Lately, she has been considering ninja gardening.  If she did it, she would sneak out under moonlight and plant seeds and invigorate soil in prime locations where folks working too many jobs to plant things wouldn't notice for weeks.  Over time things would get greener, and plants would search for who had nurtured them, while property owners would tell the family story about the house on Pine Street that sprouted a garden overnight without the slightest help from them.