A Self-imposed Exercise

Amelia had finally made the break.  She was at long last able to set her course for freedom and independence, far from the confines of her parochial small town at the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains.  This new job was in a remote corner of Australia.  She had scored a job with a mining company whose retrieval of opals had brought it too close to a possible human migration site.  She was going to be one of their required archeologists.  It paid very well, but her real pull was that it was far away from her family in Denver and the work she had been doing there.  It was far away from anything and anyone familiar.  It was a fresh start.  She would be on her own at last.  She needed the independence and the freedom like she needed fresh air and water to keep her spirit from dying of suffocation.


At least, that is what she thought.  As is so often true when we are young, what we want is what we want only until we get it day after day.  The dusty little wooden house that she rented near the town was barren and empty of personality.  She was far from any neighbor, and her late afternoons were filled with too much quiet.  She would take long walks with the strange mangy dog, who somehow captured the name "Mangy", and who had adopted her.  They would wander around the dry fields and down the dusty roads after an early dinner.  And as the days and weeks became months of this pattern, she began to second guess her decision to erase her former life.  For the first time in her life she began to feel a need for company.


She had recently noticed that the seasons were changing and the dry weather was moving on.  The rare passing truck did not stir up its usual tornado of dust as it roared by.  The air on that particular afternoon seemed cleaner due to last night's rain and many of the blossoms of the bumble tree on the hill she was passing had opened spilling their perfume down the field to caress her face.  She looked up and decided to sit in its shade.  Mangy ran on ahead as if anticipating her decision.  As she found a clear place to rest, she noticed a different smell, fragrant like roses.  She had not smelled roses in months and recognized the sweetness immediately.  She turned to her right and just on the other side of the hill in the flat grasses was a small cottage with an arbor covered in pink and white roses.  They were covering the roof tangling carelessly and almost blocked the shadowed doorway.  Behind the house the yard was in the deep shade of several large apple trees.


There were also small beds of other flowers, most still in bud at either side of the front of the small tidy blue house.  What was this place...so out of place in this arid land?  Who spent the time watering and watering to keep this garden alive?  It seemed as if no one was home.  There was no car and no sound.  Mangy had gotten bored resting at her feet and turned to head down the hill toward the house having seen some rodent movement in the shrubs, perhaps.  She sighed as she knew she would have to follow him to keep him from destroying the flower beds in his quest for fun.


He was a smart dog and did not bark but approached his prey quietly like a cat.  He stopped first with his nose at the base of an exotic Sturt pea plant.  It had several of the well recognized and dramatic red blossoms with dark black centers.  Amelia was never unsurprised by the exotic and striking plant life that she encountered on this harsh continent.


She was just about to call Mangy back to her side when a figure appeared beneath the arbor deep in the shadows with only scuffed brown boots showing in the light of the sun.  As the figure moved more into the daylight she saw it was a man in his late 40's or early 50's with a graying beard and sun wrinkled eyes.  He stood in a plain tan shirt and worn denim jeans with his hands in his pockets.  She couldn't help being startled, embarrassed, and somewhat threatened by his sudden presence.  But the flood of emotions did not stop her from quickly and too harshly calling back Mangy.


Mangy paused and then returned to her side as he glanced at the silent man.


"I..I'm so sorry.  My dog and I were attracted to your lovely garden."


The man paused and looked somewhere over her head before saying, "It is not my garden."  His eyes returned to her face with what seemed hesitation.  He remained silent.


"Well, it is lovely.  Not a common sight out here."


He brought his lips together as if to speak and then just seemed to sigh silently as he studied her.


"Well, we enjoyed the view.  Bye."  Amelia clapped her thigh to indicate to Mangy that they were moving on.  They climbed the hill and she only turned back when she had reached the shade of the Bumble tree and the sun was no longer in her eyes.  The quiet man was not standing in the arch of the roses anymore.  He had silently disappeared back into the little blue house.


She kept the strange meeting in her thoughts all the way home.