Patricia Johns

It was a quiet Sunday morning… the kind of quiet where Amelia could hear the soft tick of the clock, and outside the twitter of bird call.

Polly could understand the birds outside, and she would often comment on the drama.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene!” Polly wailed. “Please don’t take my man!”

“Is that what those chickadees are going on about?” Amelia asked. “It’s like a soap opera out there.”

“Very dramatic,” Polly agreed.

A couple of male chickadees started chattering at each other from another tree.

“What’s happening with them?” Amelia asked.

But Polly would not repeat that kind of language.

The sweet, twittering birds actually had a very lively and active life. Birds fell in love, they attempted to steal each other’s beaus, and they got married, laid eggs, and then got preoccupies with feeding their chicks. They worked together dive bombing the vicious magpies who could not be trusted, too. But there were no eggs yet, and no chicks. So they were currently pairing off and stabbing each other in the back for the love of a good bird, and that was the most dramatic time of the year.

But then Amelia heard another sound. It was the sound of Patricia and Mr. Johns returning from the store with the spring plants. Amelia put down her knitting and ran to the bedroom to see if George was still sleeping. He was… but Amelia could not wait!

It was officially gardening season! And she wanted too see what plants they’d be working with!

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“Amelia?” George called. “Where are you?”

“Up here!” Amelia called back. The Spring flower pots had been delivered, which meant that gardening time had arrived. There was something about gardening time that made Amelia feel alive.

Springtime made everyone feel alive! The birds outside were having their yearly romance fest. It was like aristocratic Brits from two hundred years ago being introduced into society and having a very short time to find a match with a duke. Except birds couldn’t be bothered with manners or balls. They sounded cute, but if you understood their language, they cursed like sailors.

“Amelia, be careful up there!” George called.

“George, I’m watching the chickadees,” Amelia said. “Betty and Ralph have decided to get married and build a nest together. Her parents think she can do better than Ralph, but she won’t have any other bird. At least I think they are. Another bird is trying to lure Betty away.”

“My goodness!” George said. “It’s another dramatic Spring, I take it. Polly was filling you in on the details?”

“She was,” Amelia said. “Now I’m just watching them collect sticks to begin their nest. It looks like Betty’s heart is pure.”

“Well, be careful up there!” George said. “I’m going to go check out the garden space and see what we have to work with.”

There was something so satisfying about warm spring weather. It made an animal feel busy, and energetic. It made a frog feel like everything she did had an important purpose. Because after spring came summer. And just when summer was over and the brisk fall breezes started to sneak in, there would be a little pollywog.

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George found an excellent gardening spot, and he turned over the soil in a few places, smelling the fresh scent of potting soil.

He’d wondered how they would garden when they moved into the apartment above Patricia Johns’s desk, but Patricia had assured them that she would bring in some wonderful plants for the balcony outside, and she would let them garden as much as they wanted.

“Good morning, George!” Patricia called.

“Good morning, Patricia!” George called back. “This pea plant pot looks just a perfect for a row or two of cabbages and cucumbers.”

“That sound wonderful,” Patricia said. “Amelia said there is some great drama happening with the birds outside?”

“Oh, yes,” George said. “There will be about a hundred weddings before the month is out, and every single one will come with drama, heartbreak, yearning and the best ones will have a duel!”

“A duel?”

“Oh yes! They look so sweet when they chatter at each other, but they are often insulting each other’s mothers, cursing each other’s family lines, and demanding to fight for their honour.”

“We miss out on so much…” Patricia murmured. “Imagine the inspiration I could get for my books, if only I could understand what’s going on!”

“Even if you could understand their language, there are literally generations of past tensions that play into every story,” George said. “It’s complicated.”

“I bet…” Patricia said. “Well, I’d best get to making breakfast for my own family, George. Happy gardening!”

“Thank you!” George called back. “See you later!”

And he pushed his shovel into the soil, testing it for that sweet, moist scent that said it was ready to grow some seeds… This time of year, George could just be thankful that his own tumultuous time of courting was over, and he had a home with Amelia. There came a time in frog’s life when all he really wanted was a wife and a garden.

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I hope you are enjoying our Knitted Newlyweds. If you love stories about family, falling in love, and all the drama that comes with it, I hope you’ll check out my books.

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