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The Garden of Eden.
By Don Urbanus
I installed a sign after a suggestion by an employee.
It was an offhand comment, but looking at the sign now, it seemed very
appropriate. I smiled as I looked at my handiwork. As I was walking back to the
office, a bright young couple approached me. She had long light brown hair and
he was an average sized good-looking fellow.
“Can you help us?” she asked, “I understand that you’re
the owner of Rising Sun Nursery and we have a lot of questions about fruit trees
and such.”
“Eve, he’s probably busy. I am sure we can figure this
out on our own.”
“Really, Adam, he’s the expert. Why not get his
opinion?”
“That’s O.K.”, I said, “I can help you. What exactly
are you looking for?”
“Well…,” he began, but Eve interrupted him.
“We want every kind of fruit,” she said
enthusiastically, “I am especially fond of apples.”
“Apples?” he complained, “We already have an apple tree
in our garden and we never get any fruit off that thing. I want peaches and
apricots and stuff like that.”
“Adam,” she said patiently, like talking to a child,
while nervously fingering her necklace, “I happen to like apples the best. You
should try apples some time. They’re better than any other fruit as far as I’m
concerned. You can eat them fresh or make pies and applesauce out of them. All
kinds of things.”
“I don’t like apples,” he said stubbornly.
“We have quite a variety of apples. There are sweet
ones and tart ones for cooking, and everything in between.” I noticed her
necklace was an unusual design of a snake. “Interesting necklace,” I noted.
“Do you like it? I love it. I wear it everywhere. I
just love snakes for some reason.” She gazed admiringly at her necklace.
“I hate snakes. Anyway, why do we always have to start
talking about snakes,” Adam complained. “I thought we were here to get some
fruit trees.”
“How come we don’t get any apples on the tree we have?”
she asked abruptly.
“Well, there could be lots of reasons. Sometimes
it’s the weather or perhaps they are not getting pollinated. If you have only
one apple tree, you might need a pollenizer.”
“A pollenizer? What’s that?” she asked, intensely
interested.
“Who cares?” Adam sighed. He began wandering away,
looking at the name tags on the rows of fruit trees.
“Some apple trees need another apple tree to pollenize
them because they are self sterile. Do you know what kind of apple you have?” I
asked.
“No,” she said, frowning, “but it’s very old. It was
there long before we bought our place.”
“Well you might get a couple of apple trees then. That way they will be sure to
pollenize each other and the old apple tree too.”
She smiled radiantly. “That’s a wonderful idea! Maybe
we can finally get some apples on that old tree. You’ll see dear,” she called
over to Adam, “when you get a taste of a really good apple, it will probably
change your life.” She smiled and winked at me. “I will get him to eat an apple.
You’ll see.”
“I like things just the way they are,” he grumbled back
at us.
“By the way,” she said, fingering her necklace again,
“Love your sign. ‘The Garden of Eden.’ Very clever.”
“Thanks,” I said, “If you need any more help, let me
know.”
“Oh,” she said, “I think I can handle things here.” She
walked away gracefully, her long hair swaying with each step.
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