Day 4, Dark frost was in the air

 She had planted the camellias in December. This was South Carolina, there was no worry about snow or hail or below-freezing temperatures.  The coldest it got was in the low 50s, high 40s.  That’s why they had moved here, why they had wintered over here for 15 years. So, she planted her camellias, two along the driveway, one out by the road, one in the backyard to the north of the screened-in porch. She could watch the backyard bush from the swing. The others would greet her as she returned home from the day’s excursions. 

Last year’s camellias had died in the summer. Not enough water, they said. Camellias are hardy plants, they can grow anywhere, but any newly-planted shrug needs to establish itself before it can weather the extremes. Even South Carolina had extremes. This year, she’d try again, plant the camellias the minute she arrived, give them the full four months of TLC so they could last through the summer.

She’d never been a gardener. Yes, she had a vegetable patch: tomatoes, peppers, carrots, corn.  But that was in Illinois, land of the black alluvial soil. All you had to do was remove the sod and dig a hole. Water some, weed some, harvest.Easy peasy. A few trees for a windbreak, some shrubs and flowers along the driveway, and lots of green lawn. They had a riding lawn mower for that. It certainly wasn’t landscaped. It was simple, and nothing really needed to be pampered.

This South Carolina property though…People gave her plants, and she planted them. Her best friend was a master gardener, although that creekside property was more jungle than garden. Still, she knew her stuff, and was happy to share. An herb garden was slowly developing, along with lemon and peach trees. They looked pretty at least. And this year one of the lemon trees was producing. Huge green globes of hung in the small tree.  Last year there had been three, but this year there were at least two dozen. Progress.

It was January. The camellias were producing flowers, She picked them as they opened, pink ones from the front, red ones with yellow centers from the back. They floated in the tiny ramekins, turned brown, were replaced. It was a gentle ritual, and today she could see many buds,  

But dark frost was in the air. Tonight the temps would dip to the 20s, and snow was on the way. The snow would become rain, and the rain would coat roads and bushes with ice. She went to the linen cupboard for sheets and table cloths to cover the bushes, and in the dark, gathered in the green lemons to ripen indoors.