Warm Winds of Autumn
Scott Fields
The right of Scott Fields to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written persmission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Photograph From
Stock
Cover Design by
Nicola Ormeord
Copyright© 2012
All rights reserved
Vamptasy Publishing
ISBN
Out Now
Summer Harvest
To Pastor Maki
Chapter One
The early morning sun was shrouded in dark and ominous clouds that seem to hang just over the treetops. Soft and gentle snow fell quietly; floating effortlessly as it descended to the ground below. The last days of winter struggled with the oncoming spring and the snow quickly melted as it touched the warm earth.
Frank Watson turned onto a gravel drive that led into the cemetery. Stopping his truck in the middle of the road he turned off the engine and peered through the dirty windshield. It had been a hard winter. Scattered trash appeared as the snows of last year slowly melted.
He opened the door and slipped out of the truck. The cold morning wind swept across the farmlands forcing the man to pull his coat tighter. He gazed across the grounds and shook his head. The years had been unkind and offered little respect for the stone monuments that once stood proudly in their eternal homes. They leaned and toppled in quiet neglect. Grass grew tall obscuring the earthly names and dates as if nature had claimed its own.
Frank moved quickly across the grounds as he had most everyday for the last two years. He wove a path through the field of stones until he was standing in front of a modest-sized monument nearly four feet high, neatly trimmed, and with yesterday’s bouquet of roses nestled at its base.
He bowed his head and stared at the headstone the cold wind scattered the thin strands of white hair on his head. “It’s your second winter out here, Ida,” he said aloud. “And it still hurts to leave you out here. You never did like the cold.” He moved until he was standing at the foot of the grave, stopped, and folded his hands. “Winter is almost over. You can feel the warm days comin’. The days are getting longer. I even saw a robin yesterday, Ida. You should have seen him standing on the fence post in the backyard. Bet he wished he had waited another two weeks or so.
Can’t wait to plant a stand of marigolds here on your bed. Know how much you love them.” Frank got to his knees and began pulling last year’s plants from the ground. “I’ll bring you new roses tomorrow,” he said tossing the dead plants behind him. “Mabel over at the flower shop is getting a fresh batch today. She always saves me the pick of the litter. Don’t know why. You and Mabel never did get along. Guess she just knows who her best customers are.”
Frank inched forward and brushed dirt and leaves from the headstone. “It’s time I did something, Ida,” he said. “Lord knows I’ve drugged my heels long enough. The baby is due most any day now, and Pepper is getting a little upset with me. Can’t say as I blame her. Promised to make an honest woman out of her, and here we are nine months later still talking about it.”
