The Grove of Solitude
Elias lived alone in the backwoods of Florida, with only his mule, Solomon, in the center of his small orange grove. While the land was wild, his grove was an oasis of order, every tree planted and tended to by his own hands. He cared for them with the patience of a man who understood that time was the key to growth.
The nearby creek that flowed into the nearby lake was his lifeline, and he had devised a simple irrigation system to ensure the trees received water even during the dry months. When winter’s occasional freezing temperatures threatened to harm the tender blooms, Elias would set out smudge pots and sit by the trees all night, watching the smoke rise into the night, knowing he had done everything to protect them.
Although he wasn’t young, he worked with the steady rhythm of someone who had spent a lifetime doing hard labor. When the citrus ripened, he picked the crop and loaded his old wagon. Hitching Solomon to the wagon, they headed to Cedar Key. The mule knew the route as well as Elias did. They had made the journey many times, leaving deep ruts in the sandy trail.
Cedar Key was a small port town on Florida’s west coast bustling with fishermen and merchants. Elias unloaded his oranges, stamped with the name “LAGOON,” and watched as they were packed onto small schooners headed north. The oranges were exceptional and fetched a fair price. Elias didn’t need much money, just enough to get by.
He lingered at the dock, watching the coasters set sail, knowing his fruit was bound for places he would never see. He imagined people in those cities savoring his delicious fruit in the dead of winter, finding solace in the bright color and fresh scent. He felt satisfied thinking about his full life and his grove.
The journey back was always quiet as the mule pulled the empty wagon, allowing Elias’s thoughts to wander. The grove awaited him, and the trees needed his care. He hardly dwelled on the past; the future was all that mattered now—another season, another harvest.
Elias understood that he was getting older. His body was slower, his hands more gnarled. However, he harbored no fear of what lay ahead. He had lived a life that made sense to him. He had nurtured the trees, witnessed their growth, and shared their fruit with the world. That was enough.
One night, after a day’s work, Elias lay down in his cabin, the stars twinkling above and the grove enveloped in silence. He thought of his parents and his West African childhood. He had accomplished all that he had set out to do. As he closed his eyes in the stillness of the night, with the grove standing guard outside, he slipped away peacefully.
Monkey's Tale
1 Sep 2024He had a simple life, but still felt rewarded from it. A lovely story. Maggie
Ron Mayhew
1 Sep 2024Thank you, Maggie. I wish now that Elias hadn’t died. 😢 Maybe a sequel.
Monkey's Tale
1 Sep 2024Or a prequel 😊
Alison and Don
2 Sep 2024A beautiful story Ron. Such a quiet peaceful life. If only we all could find this kind of quiet contentment.
Alison
Ron Mayhew
6 Sep 2024Alison, thanks for reading.
It was simple and idyllic and only in my imagination. I’m regretting Elias’s death. Now, I think there was more to his story.
Alison and Don
6 Sep 2024You could rewrite it. I’d imagine there’s quite a lot to his story.
Ron Mayhew
26 Oct 2024Thought about that and would like to. But, knowing me, probably won’t. ☹️
Alison and Don
20 Sep 2024Hey Ron, I tried to comment on The Last Note, but for some reason it wouldn’t let me. I said this: What a fabulous story. I was hooked from the beginning. You managed to convey so much with so few words.
Alison
Ron Mayhew
26 Oct 2024Thank you Alison! We sat behind this couple at a cabaret recently. They were so much fun to watch all dressed up.
Sorry you had issues posting.