Round About by Tyler Mower

Hello, and welcome to my category “Short Stories by Tyler”. Hopefully that explains the purpose of this section, but if not here is a clarifier: this is the place where you can find short stories I have written.

For the first one, I wanted to share a story I wrote while I was at a job that felt like a depressing vice that was sucking life out of me. I knew not where to turn. I was applying for jobs right and left in hopes of improving my circumstances and getting no interviews. During my lunches I would walk around the business park’s parking lots and my mind would run wild with self loathing and feeling sorry for myself.

One day, during my lunch break, I found a little black rock and kicked it all the way around the half mile path I walked. When I got back to my building rather than discarding the rock I picked it up and took it to my desk. Day after day, week after week, I took that rock with me and kicked it around the parking lot. Thought it didn’t get all the way round, eventually all of its sharp and rough edges were rounded off.

I don’t remember when, but one day in my rock kicking musings, I felt a desire to write. Soon thereafter I acted on that prompting and began writing in the evenings when I got home. Eventually I substituted walking the parking lots at work to sitting outside under a tree and writing. The short story below entitled Round About was the first one I finished. I hope you enjoy it!

Round About

Another day of work on the island. Each day Gordon set foot on the island before the sun rose and left as it set each evening. To come later or leave earlier was to risk life due to the tide that encompassed the island. This was the largest island of its kind in the world, and he had been entrusted to make it into a garden.

On his first day Gordon found the island to be desolate and devoid of life, except for weeds that patched the cracked and hard soil. Scorched by sun, the soil promised little in its ability to provide the nutrients to sustain a garden. The shores of the island were solid rock. After assessing the conditions, he set to work in the middle of the island.

Weeds were uprooted. Some clung stubbornly to the ground in their resilience to survive in such a place. Their roots had grown deep, winding down into the ground to find as much precious water as possible. Removing the full root was not always possible by hand. Shovel and dedication were employed to rid the island of every weed. Brown seeds dropped by the parent plants, as they were plucked and dug from the ground, were perfectly camouflaged in the dirt. Days or weeks later new harvests of weeds seemed to magically appear.

Though having gained control of the weeds, by the third and fourth generation had all been removed. Of course, weeds would always reappear. They seem to come spontaneously from the ground. But once commanded it is easy to keep them at bay.  

 Aside from the weeds the soil needed mulching and care. He took a shovel and one scoop at a time dug up, turned over, and sliced the dirt until every square inch of soil on the island had been turned and softened. Thus, allowing precious nitrogen from the air to seep into the soil revitalizing and adding nutrients. Though the softened soil was much needed it revealed another daunting task. Strewn across the ground, in more abundance than could be counted, were millions of rocks.

Each day Gordon brought two empty white buckets to the island. Throughout the day he filled each with the rocks from the ground. At first, the rocks were large, easy to spot, and quickly filled his buckets. Over time all that could be found were little pebbles and the amount of time needed to fill a bucket dramatically increased. From time-to-time Gordon thought he had removed all the rocks but each time it rained more rocks would magically appear.

Rain was always a welcomed blessing, a respite from the scorching heat. Without trees and shrubs to provide shade there was no escape from the rays of the sun. Yet the welcomed moisture and coolness from rain settled the dirt and eroded dirt clumps revealing more rocks. As he continued to be with the weeds, so Gordon was with the rocks. Each day he would go out with his buckets, crawl around on his hands and knees, and fill his buckets with stones. Eventually the ground was soft, free of rocks and unshackled from weeds. The island had become perfect for growing.

He was partial to flowers, for their beauty, diversity, color, shapes, and sweet scents. Earlier in life he had studied plants, gardening, and landscaping. He had developed the ability to know, just by looking at it, if a plant was healthy or sick. His knew what plants grew best together and which ones to keep apart. When it came to pruning, he had an eye unlike any other. He could envision a plants potential and help it achieve its full splendor. He knew when to cut deep and when to let growth have its season. It would never be said of Gordon that he was ruthless gardener. No, he was as tender to the life under his care as a nurse setting a baby for the first time into its mother’s arms.

Gardening had been his lifelong career. Younger in life he had studied in the great gardens of the world, in Europe, Asia, Africa, South and North America. Their beauty, motion, and serenity instilled in Gordon a passion to master the art of gardening. A painter lifts brush to canvas. A musician fills treble and base. A sculptor takes chisel to stone. Gordon places seeds in dirt.

Over the years he became one of the greatest gardeners and landscapers in the world. He had loved his career, but the time came when the projects were too big, the effort and energy needed was too great for his body. So, he had settled down. From time to time he would take on a small project, mostly something for a neighbor or a friend. Nothing big. He believed each patch of ground presented an opportunity to be enjoyed. Nowhere did this hold so true as his own yard.

Like all his projects, a perfectly planned walkway wound its way through his front yard. Open to all with a wooden sign that read “Welcome. Enjoy!” Mornings and evenings his little walkway saw the footsteps of neighbors, friends, the community, and travelers who heard the great gardener lived nearby and had a yard worth seeing. The thrill of taking a piece of land, taming it, and turning it into a place to be admired kept him from retreating to his living room to occupy his time with movies and shows.

Somehow, he had ended up here. Given charge to care for this island. No one would ever spend time here. It was not a vacation destination. It wasn't even a place where people would come and spend an afternoon or take an evening stroll. Nevertheless, it was a place people would see. They wouldn't take note of the intricacies of the landscaping or even identify the variety of plants and flowers selected to pallet the island in a maelstrom of greens, yellows, reds, oranges, pinks, purples and a myriad of other hues and tones. Despite this understanding Gordon took great pride in his work. He Diligently cultivated the ground, planned the landscaping, and cared for the plants.

Other landscapers create for the intention of the paycheck. The more jobs completed the one more cash comes in. They are good at what they do. They can plan and landscape whole yards and parks in a matter of days or weeks. They create pretty places. Yet, once their work is done, they move on to the next project. Their work is turned over to the city, homeowner, and often, another company to take care of. Sometimes their creations are left unkept, overused, and loose the prettiness that was originally planned.

After he had studied the best gardens on Earth Gordon knew what true landscaping and gardening was about. Any patch of ground could be better than pretty. It could be beautiful. As long as someone was there to care for it every day. True beauty takes time. It takes patience. It takes molding. It takes persistence.

This was the mindset that put him on course to become world famous. He had designed and kept the grounds of many resorts, across various climates, each tailored to the region. He had created beautiful gardens, walkways, and parks experienced by millions, but few appreciated them for the full grandeur that they were. Kind of like a perfect day, you may not be able to articulate all the reasons why the day was so good, but you know it was unlike any other.

The island grew in beauty day by day. A new young grove of trees encircled the center crest of the island. One day, after he was long gone, this grove would be magnificent, creating an embracing canopy of shad under which to sit and ponder. For that purpose, the very center of the grove had a gravel pad and four benches. One bench on the north, one on the south, one on the east, and on the west. Gordon liked to think of it as a hidden gem, that maybe one day some adventurer would find their way here and sit in wonder and awe at the beauty around them. 

Beyond the grove were thick bushes, which would one day fill the gap between the grove branches above and the ground below. This would act as a sound barrier to the noise around the island. As such, the center of the grove would become a quite retreat.

Two stone pathways spiraled through the bushes reaching the grove. These were like the arms of a galaxy reaching the grove from the Northeast and southwest. Due to the spiral the bushes appeared to make an entire wall around the grove of trees.

Beyond the bushes were tall grasses. Patches of trees were scattered here and there. Flowers were strategically placed throughout creating designs like those found in the flowers themselves. Halfway between the center grove and island’s shores was an encircling pathway made of stones. The pathway wove around the entire island flanked on both sides by flowers, grasses, and trees.

Next to the stony shore of the island was another ring of trees of various sizes. These too encircled the island. No bushes were placed by these. This was so when approaching the island, one could see below their canopy into the grassy areas and the patterns of flowers. At the same time, they served to obscure the presence of the walkway and maintain the appearance of an untouched natural wonder.

Early in the morning on the day he deemed the project complete, those who had commissioned him came and took a tour.

They applauded his work. It was said that he had gone above and beyond what they had expected. They could envision the day when the trees would be full grown, the bushes creating their walls and the beauty that would be found on the island. Though they wondered why he had taken the time to place walkways on the island. After all, who would ever come to the island given its location.

While walking down to the shore one who had been intrigued by the walkways asked, "We filled your orders for the trees, plants, grasses, and flowers, but I do not recall an order for, rocks, stones, gravel and pebbles for the walkways. Where did you come by those?"

Gordon smiled and replied, "From the very ground we are walking on. The garden itself provided them."

The men shook Gordon’s hand congratulated him on a job well done. They ensured him that the garden would be well tended to. Then they made their exit from the island.

Gordon stayed and spent the day. For months he had been creating this garden. It had become part of him. He walked it's paths. He looked at the trees and flowers. He watched the grasses sway as a breeze came through. From time to time he bent over and pulled up a small growing weed. He sat on each bench, wondering if anyone would ever come and enjoy the garden. Mostly he just enjoyed the beauty that was now there.

When evening came, he packed up the few tools he had and walked to the shore. He looked to his right. As usual for this time of evening the tide had slowed and become sporadic. He only had to wait a few seconds before it was clear. Once clear, he briskly walked across the several lanes of road where cars were normally zipping about. Once across he turned around and looked back at the island oasis in the middle of the city’s biggest roundabout.

Story in a Story

The banner image at the top of this article has a variety of objects in it. Each of those were chosen for a specific purpose. Each represent different aspects of my life. There is a dark rock right above the “d” in “Round”. That is the rock I used to kick around the parking lot.

To this day it sits on my desk as a reminder of how bad things got careerly speaking, the depression, and the dead end I felt I was in. It also sits as encouragement to act rather be acted upon, to chose my own course and pursue it with full intent.

From time to time I hold it and look at its unique features. Thin calcite veins run and cross through the paralleling black stone. One side is almost perfectly smooth with fine scapes made as it slid across asphalt. If it is stood up on one end it looks like an arrow pointing upward. It has accompanied me across twelve different desks, three jobs, and been inquired about by multiple co-workers. To me it stands as a solid resolve to be true to myself.

Is there anything you hold on to that helps you remember where you have been, while at the same time encouraging you to move forward?