Gehh. Krep.

ELL, that took significantly longer than I'd thought.

Yes, I know it's a disjointed mess. But there were two things I wanted to do with this story, and I think I've achieved both of my objectives.

First, I wanted to force myself to write straight through without going back to edit. This was torture, by the way. I see every flaw and error and awkward change of tone and instance of lazy writing, and I JUST WANT to FIX it. But posting it for an audience (OK, not a huge audience, but still) meant I had to press on instead of just setting it aside or killing it with edits.

Second, I wanted to work on dialogue, which doesn't come easily to me. There are definitely some awkward spots here, but I feel as though I'm getting better and more comfortable with character exchanges. Maybe the key is to read lines of dialogue out loud and ask oneself, "Does this honestly sound like the way this character would talk?" Sometimes what works on paper doesn't work out loud.

I'm not pleased with the ending as it now stands. I knew I wanted it to have a bittersweet ending almost from the beginning; that Brad would choose a fantastically creative but lonely path. But right now it tastes more bitter than sweet. Should the readers get a glimpse of the place his wish has created, and would that take the edge off the bitterness? Inquiring minds want to know.

Actually, it's nearly 3 a.m. here and inquiring minds need sleep. But kindly post your constructive criticism here if you like.

The end (finally) of the capricious tale of Brad

(V is back. She was a bit homesick for family earlier this evening, poor sweetheart, but I think it will go better for her as she gets re-acclimated. We're just glad to have her around again. And since she's now asleep, it's time to bring this baby to a close.)

T was the first week in September when the caprice began to die.

Actually, Brad had been so caught up with other issues that he'd hardly had the time or thought to notice the caprice. School was about to start, and Brad was preparing for his freshman year of high school -- and rather abruptly he'd learned that his aunt didn't want him around any more.

He'd walked into the condo unannounced after a full day spent at Victoria's place, and overheard his aunt talking on the phone, her voice hushed but intense. He wouldn't have listened in, except he caught the sound of a familiar name as he walked by:

"...well, he won't tell you, Melanie, because you're his baby sister and he'd let you walk all over him. But I won't. We agreed to take Brad for three weeks just while you got your act together -- well, you've had three months to get your act together. And now school is starting, and I'm not about to sign him up for high school here when he's supposed to be back with you. He's a good kid, but this was never meant to be a permanent arrangement."

Brad didn't eavesdrop any further. He fled into Samuel's room, quietly closed the door and began to gather all the clothes he could find.

"What are you doing?" Samuel asked from his side of the room.

"Packing," said Brad shortly.

"Why?"

"I have to leave."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not wanted here," Brad murmured. "I guess I'm not wanted anywhere."

His mother had only sent him here to get him out of the way, and now he'd overstayed his welcome with his aunt and uncle. For a moment he thought of camping out in Victoria's yard, but with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realized it was probably only a matter of time until he wore out his welcome with them, too. He had a vague notion of getting on the bus and letting it take him to some random town in a state he'd never seen before, but he had no money. Hitchhiking was dangerous, and he was pretty sure hiding out in freight trains was dangerous too.

Still, with nothing better to do, he kept packing. He reached up to the windowsill to retrieve the daylily doorknob, and as his hand closed on the cold metal, he glanced up at the caprice. It was horribly withered. All the flowers had curled up and fallen from the branches, and most of the leaves were gone as well. The remaining leaves were mostly dry and crunchy. Brad had never seen the plant like this. The room began to blur.

"Are you crying?" Samuel piped up.

"Go away."

"This is my room."

"GET OUT!" yelled Brad, and he nearly chucked the doorknob at Samuel, who yelped and beat a hasty retreat.

When he was sure Samuel had gone, Brad wiped his eyes and continued to pack as fast as he could. He knew he couldn't go out via the front door. Samuel would almost certainly have gone to his mother to complain about being kicked out of his own room, which meant he would be getting a visit from his aunt very soon. He zipped up the suitcase, carefully retrieved the caprice, opened the window and slipped out into the warm early evening. Time to pull up the stakes again, kiddo, he thought grimly.

With no clearer idea of where he should go, Brad found himself heading in the direction of Victoria's house. He wanted to run, but realized that running would only draw unwanted attention -- and besides, he was worried about the caprice. It was much the worse for wear from neglect and didn't look like it was prepared to take any additional abuse that night. He cradled it in the crook of his right arm, talking rather forlornly to it as he walked.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry. Don't die. Please. I'll find you a place. Just don't die."

When he got to Victoria's, Brad turned early and went through the side yard, stepping carefully to avoid bruising or treading on any of the herbs. He could hear Victoria and her mom talking and laughing in the kitchen. It would be so easy just to walk in through the back door, rejoin them, confide in them -- but even though he longed to do it, he was convinced this would be a mistake. He didn't want to find out if they would, in the end, reject him as well.

Quietly, Brad stole out to the pool. He put down his suitcase, scooped up a handful of water -- startling Finn in the process -- and tried to water the caprice. It didn't seem to show any immediate improvement. He tried talking softly to it, but it didn't respond to his voice. He should have paid more attention to it. What did he need to do?

Then, suddenly, he remembered something Victoria's mom had once told him. "If you've got a potted plant that suddenly seems unhealthy, be sure to check the roots. It might be suffocating itself in a pot that's too small for it." Brad tipped the pot over and gently eased the plant out. It was horrifyingly rootbound. He tried gently teasing the roots apart around the edges, but they weren't coming quietly, so he pulled out his penknife and started slicing through the rootball, sympathetically wincing and hoping this wasn't yet another instance of the caprice not being like other plants. Eventually he had it pretty well opened out. But where was he going to plant it?

Brad looked around and, for the nonce, settled on his little plot of ground just to one side of the aspen colony. The trees had already felt the cold of early autumn and had turned an unbelievably luminous gold, as though King Midas had touched them. As he brushed past, Brad impulsively plucked a twig from the aspen and stuck it in his shirt pocket. Victoria had once told him that if you wore a bit of golden aspen it would bring you good fortune, and although Brad suspected that this, like so many of Victoria's pronouncements, was something she'd made up, he still liked the idea. He knelt in the center of his plot and began to dig at the loose, still-warm soil with his hands.

When he eased the rootball down into the hole and carefully covered it up with soil, Brad didn't hold out much hope for the caprice. It still looked dry and withered. Maybe it needed watering. He went back to the pool, filled the old pot with water and carried it back to his plot -- and nearly drizzled it all onto his foot. In the few short moments he'd been gone, the caprice had begun shooting up and out, clearly in the process of growing into a full-sized tree. It was more vigorous and strong than he'd ever seen it, even when it first bloomed. There were no flowers now in the branches, but as he looked up he could see swellings of purplish-blue forming among the leaves. The caprice was bearing fruit. And Brad suddenly had a strong desire to taste it.

He wasn't good at climbing trees, and the lowest branch was already too high for him to reach. Brad ran, grabbed his suitcase, gingerly climbed atop it and managed to grasp hold of a branch and swing himself up into the still-growing tree. It was hard to keep hold when the branches were spreading and swelling beneath him, but he managed to shimmy out onto a branch, lean out precariously and pluck a blue-violet fruit. He didn't even wait to climb down. Instead he peeled away a bit of the skin and took a bite of the peach-like flesh.

It didn't taste like peach. It didn't taste like any food he'd ever had. It tasted like reading a book of poems, or figuring out a puzzle, or looking up at the stars. It tasted like knowledge. And it told him exactly what the caprice was for, and what he had to do next.

First, he got down from the tree with only minor damage to his pride (and his backside). He dusted himself off, opened the suitcase, ripped a page out of his notebook and wrote a note, which he folded up and left next to the tree. Then he dug around in the suitcase for a while before his fingers finally closed on the doorknob. He could hardly see it in the gathering darkness, but he could feel the daylily stamped on its surface, and smiled. Groping in the dark, he made a slow circuit of the tree trunk until he finally found a knothole that was just the right size. He pushed the doorknob into the hole, turned it slowly, felt something give beneath his fingers. The trunk groaned softly as Brad opened the door that had formed in the tree. He grabbed his suitcase, took a final look back at Victoria's house, then walked through the doorway and closed it firmly behind him.



Brad had always been fairly tidy for a boy; he didn't like to leave messes behind. So it's probably just as well that he didn't know what happened after he departed. There was a great deal of hysterical crying and carrying on from both his mother and his aunt, and a number of search parties were sent to try to find his whereabouts. Everyone in the neighborhood was interviewed by police on multiple occasions. After a year, the trail went cold.

The only things ever found related to Brad's disappearance were never brought to the notice of the police department. Victoria found them all in her own back yard. One was an old brass doorknob with a daylily stamped into its surface, which just happened to fit the door to Victoria's room perfectly. Another was an empty plant pot, found next to the garden plot that had been Brad's. The last was a note, left in the empty center of the plot, addressed to "Her Majesty Queen Victoria." When Victoria read the note, she hid all these things until the whole business had blown over. She was not about to betray Brad's secret.

Sometimes, when she felt lonely, she would close her eyes and imagine the place Brad had described to her in his note -- the place he'd wished aloud for, the place the caprice had used all its energy to make real for him. He described it as a land of super-fertile soil, but no native seeds, where nothing had ever grown before; a land where one need only dig a hole and plant an object, any object at all, for it to grow. He had described to her a living house of daylilies that followed the sun, where every day there was a different room to discover because the house had grown and changed during the night. He had described a mirror plant he would grow that would let him look into the past and the present and the future. He had described the house as surrounded by golden quaking aspens, and flanked by two metal trees grown from his pocket change, with perfectly spherical fruit that made soft sounds like chimes when the wind blew. He had told her he would make and grow things beautiful beyond description in this place, the one place where he would always be home.

But it was the last few sentences of the letter that made the greatest impression on Victoria. Here is what it said:

There was only one thing I left out of my wish, and that was a friend to share it with. You told me once that when one aspen quakes, every other one quakes with it. So when the aspens in your garden quake and there is no wind, you will know it is because I am thinking of you.

Victoria's neighbors still think she is odd. She still has no intention of changing herself to please them. But she has changed. She is not as impulsive, not as quick to speak or laugh as she once was. It is as though she is listening for something. Sometimes, Victoria walks through the shaded garden out into the aspen grove. Even on the most windless night, when she stands among the aspens, they will begin to tremble in the stillness, and she finds she is trembling with them.

Even more of the capricious tale (when will it end?)

(Well, Miss V is returning from summer vacation tomorrow. Gotta press on while I have some free time.)

HE back yard, if anything, was more astonishing than the front. Sheltered from the summer sun by a number of very old trees, it was filled with shade-loving plants -- green striped hostas and delicate ferns, the deep pink of bleeding-hearts, tiny purple violets and periwinkles, columbines in a score of different colors -- and in the center, three large rough-hewn boulders surrounded a deep, mossy pool in which a gold-and-white carp slowly swam. Brad sat down on the edge of a boulder and took a long breath; the air was moist and so rich with oxygen he felt a little dizzy. Victoria's mother looked at him with bemusement.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"I'd live here if I could," said Brad honestly.

She chuckled. "Thank you. That's quite a compliment. There's more to it, of course. We've got a vegetable garden further back, where it gets more sun, and I grow herbs around the side yard. And oh, there's that plot I promised you. Come on."

She led Brad further back into the yard. Stepping between two trees and out into the sunlight, Brad caught sight of a stand of bright green-leafed, quaking trees.

"Oh. Aspens."

"Well, aspen, really." She considered them for a moment. "It's a clonal colony. The trees may all look separate, but at the root they're all connected to each other. They're actually a single organism."

Victoria trailed in after them. "Maybe all the aspens everywhere are connected somehow," she murmured. "Maybe that's why they say that when one aspen quakes, every other aspen quakes with it."

Her mother turned to her. "Oh? Who says that?"

"Me," said Victoria, smiling. "Show Brad his plot."

The plot was a large, roughly circular patch to one side of the aspens. Brad knelt down and dragged a hand across the surface. The soil was soft and almost black, yielding easily to his fingers. "What used to be here?" he asked.

"Oh, this was where our elm used to be," Victoria's mother sighed. "My grandfather planted it. Dutch elm disease took it a few years ago. I haven't had the heart to plant anything in its place. But it's about time we moved on, don't you think?"

Victoria knelt beside him. "What would you like to plant?" she asked curiously.

"I... don't know," Brad murmured. But his mind's eye was already planting out all sorts of flowers and bulbs, and a tree to take the place of the missing elm. It would just take a little time.


From that point on, Brad escaped to Victoria's house almost every day. They did all sorts of things together -- played checkers and Parcheesi, read, went to the movies, made up card games, worked in the garden, and hand-fed Finn the carp. Victoria discovered that Brad had never in his life stayed in a place longer than two years, and Brad discovered that although Victoria had read almost every book in the house, she had never watched television. Brad took to calling her "Queen Victoria," and Victoria retaliated by calling him "Milton Bradley," a name she lifted from the Parcheesi box. They ate lunch together, and sometimes did the dishes together afterward. And of course, Brad did work on his plot, sowing all sorts of seeds in patches and patterns, and keeping the weeds out. In fact, Brad was spending so much time over at Victoria's that his aunt got nervous and ordered him to "stay home for a while and give those poor people a breather." Fortunately, Victoria's mom called Brad's aunt, explaining that they missed Brad and that he was a great help to her in the garden, so that particular issue didn't last long.

Brad didn't even mind occasionally sitting in on Victoria's school lessons, although it didn't resemble any school he'd ever attended. Victoria's "homework" was different from day to day. Once her math homework consisted of a long list of clues, where she had to figure out the right answer in order to go on to the next clue. It was like a treasure hunt, complete with a treasure at the end (chocolate gold coins).

"Why can't they do stuff like this in the regular schools?" he asked, as they counted their chocolatey loot. "Every school I've ever been to, we just do worksheets and stuff."

"You do have to wonder why," Victoria mused, contemplatively biting into a coin. "I mean, doesn't it get boring?"

"You have no idea. You're so lucky not to have to go."

"Well, yes and no. Don't misunderstand me, I like the way my mom does things, but I don't ever really get vacation time. And then, well... it seems like public school kids have more friends."

"You have friends," Brad pointed out.

"Well, I do now. I have you and Mom. But before you it was just Mom. There are other kids in the neighborhood, but I guess they think I'm too weird to talk to," she added, a bit wistfully.

Brad remembered how Victoria had originally struck him as odd. "It's their problem, not yours," he replied stoutly.

"Oh, it's OK. I'm not going to change just for their sake. But I'll admit it did get a little lonely before you moved here."

"And now you're less lonely?" Suddenly Brad got an evil idea. He grinned impishly and grabbed her chocolate coins. "AND POORER!" he hollered triumphantly, and ran for his life.

"Aaahh! Give those back, you pirate!"

"Arr matey, these here doubloons be right tasty! Nom nom nom."

"MOOOOM! STOP HIM!"

(As always, more later. Bed now.)

*knuckle crack* Hokeydokey, time to get on with this

(We now continue with the apparently never-ending capricious tale of Brad. Yes, I know this story is messy and disjointed and imperfect. I just want to see if I can finish something for once without bogging down in the urge to edit.)

HAT night, as his cousin mumbled and turned in his sleep, Brad sat up in bed, lost in thought. He took the caprice plant down from the windowsill again and cradled it in his lap. It might be a trick of the moonlight, but it seemed as though the color and shape of the caprice had changed again -- the flowers seemed less trumpet-like in the night, shaped more like peonies, with a delicate blue-lavender color. The caprice's scent was much as before, but suddenly he couldn't seem to get enough of it. What an odd little plant it was.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, whispering to the caprice. "I thought maybe I could get Mom to take me back, but I know now I can't count on her. It wouldn't be so bad if this were just a temporary situation, but I'm so afraid I'll end up stuck in this place, with no air and no sun and nowhere for things to grow." He looked out at the sterile moon. "I wish... I wish there were a place somewhere I could live for good... a place with as much room as I needed... with the kind of soil that would grow anything... just a place I could be at home."

As he looked back at the caprice, Brad drew in a breath. The plant had started to grow again, in a way he hadn't seen for years. It began to look more and more like a young tree, with a slim, woody trunk and flowering branches. Brad stared in wonder as the caprice grew to about a yard in height, and then stopped. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he felt strangely confident the plant had done something significant, something he couldn't see. But what, exactly?

Despite his curiosity, Brad found, abruptly, that he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He let out a huge yawn and had just enough time to put the caprice back on the windowsill before he fell into a deep sleep.


The next morning, Brad wasn't awakened by his cousins fighting, or being sat on, or even by the sound of the vacuum cleaner scooting through the room (although all these things happened). The thing that finally woke him up was his aunt shaking his shoulder.

"Brad? Honey? You'd better get up. There's someone here to see you."

The "someone" turned out to be Victoria, who had apparently knocked on doors at random until she found the right one. Today she was bedecked in a huge straw hat, a smock and denim cutoffs. "Hi," she said cheerily as Brad wandered out, still in his pajamas.

"Um, hi," said Brad foggily. "Isn't it a little early yet?"

"It's almost noon," Victoria observed. "I was afraid I might interrupt your lunch." She scuffed a foot on the carpet, and Brad noticed she was barefoot. "If you like, I'll wait 'til you change," she added.

"Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Well, you seemed like the kind of person who doesn't usually come over the first time he's invited, so I figured I'd just find you and bring you over." She smiled. "You can have lunch with us. Or breakfast, if you prefer."

"I, um... well... okay. I'll just... go change then."

Victoria didn't give Brad much time to think. Once he was into his street clothes, she took his hand and practically pulled him out of the condo, down the street, around the corner and along another several blocks, chatting all the way until they reached a picket-fenced yard on McTavish.

"... anyway, it's a much more comprehensive education and I'm learning all the time, so I do a lot better than I would in a public school and Mom's a great teacher. And there she is. Hey Mom! I brought Brad!"

"Come on in through the front, sweetheart," came a voice from behind the fence.

Brad stared in frank wonder at the yard through which he was passing. It was alive with plants and flowers, growing in profusion in every direction. The path was bordered with mounds of phlox, and at a glance he took in rosebushes, some dormant lilacs, pear tomatoes, some sort of green swirly vegetable, and Turk's cap lilies before Victoria had good-naturedly dragged him onto the porch.

"I thought you said you didn't have a knack for growing stuff," he said suspiciously to Victoria.

"I don't. Mom's the one who grows everything around here. Oh, Mom, this is Brad."

Brad found himself taking the hand of a plump, darkly tan woman with twinkly brown eyes. "Pleased to meet you, Brad," she said, in a low, slightly gravelly alto voice. "Won't you come in and have something to eat?"


"Something to eat" turned out to be a minor feast: globe artichokes with melted butter, homemade biscuits with plum preserves, an herb salad strewn with nasturtium blossoms, fresh sliced tomatoes with basil, and a dessert of blackberry cobbler. Brad had never eaten artichokes before, but he did as his mother taught him: watch your hostess for clues. Once he had stripped a single buttery petal with his teeth, it was off to the races for him. Victoria and her mom watched in quiet amusement as he defoliated an artichoke with gusto.

"So, Brad," Victoria's mother said over the dessert, "Victoria tells me you have a green thumb."

Brad nodded, his mouth full of cobbler.

"She also says you don't have anywhere to plant."

Brad swallowed. "My uncle and his family live in a condo, so no garden space right now." He wiped his mouth. "But it's not just that. I've spent most of my life moving around, so--"

"Ah, you plant, but you don't get a chance to see things grow."

"That's about it." Brad thought about the one exception -- his caprice plant -- but something stopped him from mentioning it to Victoria or her mother just yet. The caprice was his own, and he wasn't so sure he was ready to share it.

Victoria's mom smiled. "Well, maybe we can help out with that. There's a plot in the back yard where you can grow a few things, if you'd like. At least you could plant a few fall bulbs for next spring."

"I'd like that," said Brad. "Thank you."

(You guessed it: more later.)

Print Gocco (capricious tale temporarily on hiatus)

Aaagh! Curse you, Gretel! Why did you have to mention the Print Gocco? I've been looking at various Gocco resources online and now have developed a fairly advanced case of Thermal Print System Covet.

While I'm at it, someone please explain to me WHY NEHOC DOESN'T SHIP TO THE UNITED STATES!!! Gah! I have been wanting to make myself a T-shirt with "You say 'insufferable know-it-all' like it's a bad thing" for ages now, and this little machine looks like just the thing I need for simple screen printing. Any Aussies or Kiwis willing to buy this thing and ship it over here? I will pay actual out-of-pocket costs.

In other news, I have come home again to find it swelteringly hot and likely to remain so for the next several days. The capricious little tale of Brad is on hiatus while I climb into the chest freezer for refreshment. Wake me when it hits 72 degrees again...

Ranging about (plus more of the capricious tale)

Well, CM and I are on vacation visiting family. We've spent the better part of the past week dwelling in a yurt (which was surprisingly comfortable) and roughing it on the shores of a lake in Utah. Right now my nose, cheeks, hairline, and possibly part of my brain are burnt to a crisp. (Aloe vera is your friend.)

While we were there I had plenty of time to write, so I tried my hand at more of the capricious tale of Brad.

*strum strum*

RAD woke early to the sensation of being smothered. One of his little cousins -- Timmy? Tommy? -- was sitting on his chest. He slid the child off onto the floor and tried to turn over, but the child climbed right back on.

"GET OUTTA MY ROOM!" yelled Samuel, who had just realized his little brother was trespassing. Startled at the noise, the child started to wail. Between his loud sobbing and Samuel's continued yelling, Brad realized there would be no further chances for sleep in this room. He grabbed a blanket and stalked off toward the living room couch.

"Hey, Brad honey! How'd you sleep?" asked his aunt cheerily. She was busy dusting.

"I don't know. Ask me when I've had some sleep." Brad had a hard time with perky morning people. Both he and his mom were night owls. This household, by comparison, seemed to wake at the crack of dawn.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," his aunt clucked. "First time in a new place will sometimes do that to you. But you'll adjust soon enough."

Brad reflected for a moment on how many new places and first times he'd experienced in his life. He suspected the difference this time might have something to do with being treated like a sofa, but he said nothing. His aunt was trying to be pleasant.

That morning was difficult for Brad. He spent most of it babysitting his four cousins and running errands for his aunt. By mid-afternoon he was beginning to look for an escape route, and he found it soon enough when his aunt asked him to run to the corner store and pick up some things for dinner. Brad quite literally ran the three blocks to the Jubilee and stood outside a while, taking huge gasps of breath. He felt as though he'd climbed out of a well. How much more of this could he take?

There was a pay phone outside the Jubilee. On a whim, Brad took out a handful of change and dialed his mom. The phone rang six times.

"Hello?" said an unfamiliar voice on the other end. It sounded like a man.

"Wait," said Brad confusedly. "Uh, is this 698-2124?"

"Uh, yes it is. Were you looking for Melanie?"

"Yes!" said Brad, relieved to hear his mother's name. "Yes, I'm looking for Melanie. May I speak to her, please?"

"Well, she's a little busy at the moment," the man said, and Brad swore he could hear soft giggling in the background. "Would you like to leave her a message?"

Suddenly Brad realized what was happening. His stomach dropped like a lead weight. "Tell her her son called," he said heavily.

There was silence on the line for a second or two. Then the man's voice said, "I see. I'll be sure to give her the message." Just before the line went dead, Brad caught the words: "Mel, that was your son. Why didn't you tell--"

That was the end of that escape route. Mom had obviously sent him off to his uncle's because she didn't want him getting in the way of her current love interest. Brad felt set adrift. He sat down heavily on a bench, put his head in his hands and tried not to cry.

After a few minutes, a girl in a yellow dress came out of the store. She was a few years younger than Brad, with a dark tan, deep brown eyes and smoky hair held back in a ponytail. The moment she saw Brad, she dropped her shopping bag, knelt beside him and gave him a hug. Brad was startled at this touch from a complete stranger, but he also really needed the hug, so he didn't shy away. After a minute or two, he stopped sniffling.

The girl looked up at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Brad shook his head.

"It's all right. I was just curious." She sat down beside him on the bench. "You new here?"

"Just got here yesterday."

She nodded. "Thought so. Hey, you've got a green thumb. That must be handy."

"It would be if I lived in a place with a garden," Brad murmured somewhat bitterly.

"Well, I do. We've got a huge backyard, but I don't have the knack for growing things. Maybe you could come over some time and help us plant?"

"Maybe," said Brad guardedly.

"I'm Victoria," the girl added. "I live over on McTavish, about four blocks that way."

"Brad," said Brad. "I'm staying with my uncle George and his family. Over that way." He couldn't bring himself to say he was living with his uncle's family; it seemed so final.

"I'm glad," said Victoria simply. "We'll be neighbors. Oh, did you need something from the store?"

Suddenly Brad remembered his shopping list. "I'm getting some things for my aunt," he said.

"Well," Victoria said, "I have to get home before the milk gets warm. Guess I'll see you around later." She grabbed her bag and headed off in the direction of McTavish, twirling every now and then and swinging her shopping bag around aimlessly.

Brad stared after her. She was odd, he decided, but in a good way. He kept thinking about her all through the aisles of the store, on the three blocks back to his uncle's house, and most of the rest of the evening.

(This is as far as I wrote. I'll think of more later.)

My ho-hum life (with a capricious tale chaser)

Despite all appearance to the contrary, we don't actually close up shop and go into mourning when Miss V isn't around. I do have a life. It just isn't very interesting. Had I catalogued it here, you could be reading about adventures in bargain shopping, cooking up Pakistani curries, and the way I ruined homemade chicken stock on the stove overnight while my poor relatives were visiting, and how they had to sleep in Burnt Chickenville all night. (See? Not interesting.)

Instead I shall spin you a tale.

*strum strum*

IME was, there was a lad named Brad who had a green thumb. (People used to point and laugh at it, but he wisely ignored them.) Since his mother frequently switched jobs, Brad had a vagabond life that took him from place to place, never settling anywhere for more than a few months. He longed for a place of his own, where he could grow a garden and actually see the fruits of his labors, but there was never enough time.

Brad's most treasured possession -- one he had managed to keep through every move -- was an old brass doorknob with a day lily stamped on its face. It had belonged to his grandma, who had given it to him when he was six. Brad secretly believed it was lucky, though he wasn't sure how. Some day, he thought, when he was old enough, he'd find a house where he could stay forever if he wanted, and when that day came he'd put the brass doorknob on the front door.

One lovely summer day, as Brad was walking through Molbak's, he noticed a seed packet on the floor. He picked it up and turned it over. It didn't look like any of the other seed packets nearby, for it was made of simple brown paper, like a grocery sack. On the front, instead of a beautiful photograph or illustration of the plant, there were only these handwritten words:

CAPRICE
Plant and see

Now Brad was most curious about what a caprice plant was (wouldn't you be?), so he took it to the cashier, who -- though she was otherwise quite knowledgeable (she worked at Molbak's, after all) -- didn't know anything about a caprice plant. Nor could she find the seed packet anywhere in her inventory list. Still, she shrugged and sold it to him for fifty cents. "Guess you'll find out," she said.

When Brad got home, he fished around in the junk behind the double-wide trailer and found a small plastic flowerpot. He filled it with potting soil and tipped in half a dozen small white seeds from the packet. Since there were no planting directions, he decided to cover the seeds loosely, water the pot generously and leave it in half-shade.

Weeks went by, and there was no sign from the little plastic pot that any living thing lurked beneath the soil. Brad tried all sorts of different things to coax it out -- heavy watering, no watering, full sun, complete shade, fish emulsion, Miracle Gro, playing the ocarina, waving the doorknob at it -- but to no avail. His caprice seeds were being, well, capricious. Furthermore, since nobody seemed to have heard of a caprice plant before, he wasn't sure if any of his experiments were good for the seeds.

Then there came an evening when Brad was informed, with much pseudo-cheer, that his family was getting ready to pack up and move on as it had so many times before.

Brad sulked around the edge of the double-wide. Nobody ever asked him what he wanted; it was always "Time to pull up the stakes again, kiddo!" as though Mom thought it was all fun for him. He never stayed long enough to make friends or enjoy a place -- never even long enough to really see his plants grow. He scowled at the plastic pot.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" he muttered at it. "You don't have to move. You get everything you need and you still don't grow." He kicked at a dirt clod. "Plant and see, the packet said. Well, I'm going away soon and there won't be anyone to take care of you, so if you're planning on doing something I can see, you'd better do it now."

The moment the words left his mouth, Brad began to notice something. Little green tendrils began springing up in the pot. In less time than it takes to tell about it, they had woven themselves together and grew and grew, a long green stalk rising from the little plastic container. When the plant was about level with Brad's head, it began to branch out in various directions, the foliage squiggling out in corkscrew tendrils like sweet peas. Huge buds flared out into great purple-fringed trumpet flowers, like giant morning glories.

All this time Brad stood with his mouth open. Never had he seen anything grow so fast as the treelike plant nodding its flowers before him. He could smell the perfume of the huge flowers, fresh and heady, like hyacinth and apple blossom.

"How..." he managed to get out.

An evening wind ruffled the leaves of the caprice plant, and Brad imagined he could almost hear, tangled in the sound of the leaves rustling, a whispery leaf voice saying "Plant and seee..." The scent of the caprice flowers mixed with the breeze, washing over and around him.

Brad walked slowly around the plant. The wonder was how it managed to stay upright, growing from such a tiny pot. He'd never heard of a plant growing so fast before. Kudzu and blackberries were pretty fast growers, but they weren't anything like the caprice.

"This is amazing," Brad murmured. "I'm glad I got to see this. I usually don't get the chance. We move so much, I never... I just -- I guess I wish I could take you with me."

As he spoke, the plant began to shrink. In thirty seconds, before his astonished eyes, it had become a tangle of corkscrew foliage and small purple flowers peeking over the rim of the plastic pot. It was just the right size for Brad to pick up and take into the house, so he did. No one had to tell him to keep this strange experience secret -- he wanted something that was his alone. Besides, who would ever believe him? He wasn't entirely sure he believed it himself.

Brad kept a close eye on his unusual plant through the next several moves, keeping it warm inside during the winter and taking it outside in summer. He continued to water it and even played the ocarina to it once in a while, but though it looked healthy enough, it never grew any larger. He did not talk to the plant again for quite some time -- mostly because he was afraid he might have made up the whole thing in his head. Brad had been disappointed so many times, by so many things, that he didn't want it to happen with the caprice.

Then, when Brad was sixteen, his mother suddenly informed him that he was going to live with his uncle. There was no explanation, but at that point Brad had stopped asking for explanations from his mother. In spite of himself, he began to look forward to the idea. Maybe he'd be able to find a more permanent place with his uncle -- put down roots, as it were. Maybe his uncle would let him plant a garden. He packed his clothes, a few gardening books, and his lucky doorknob, and when the day came he carefully carried the caprice plant onto the bus.

It was a three-day bus journey to his uncle's house, and by the end of the third day Brad had lost all cheer and most of his patience. He was desperate for a hot shower and a normal bed. It was at this point that the crazy lady peeked over the seat in front of him and said, "Halloo, little waterbug, and how be your caprice today?"

"Wait... you know what this is?" Brad asked.

"Oh sure. Can smell a caprice half a mile away, so scrumptious." She sniffed the air and smacked her withered lips together. "It don't look like you've used it much, though."

"What do you mean? How are you supposed to use it? Do you know how to take care of this thing?"

"You gots one and you don't know?" The crazy lady let loose with a high giggle. "You gots to talk to it, waterbug. That's all it needs. S'prised you didn't know that, seeing as how you gots it to grow and all."

"I -- talked to it a long time ago," said Brad guardedly. "That's all? Talk to it?"

"Well," the crazy lady said, her eyes twinkling, "I wish I could tell you more. But you look smart, little waterbug. You'll suss it out." And she popped back into her seat, still giggling.

Brad was itching to ask her what else she knew about the caprice plant, and how she'd learned about it, but there really wasn't time. His stop was coming up. He gathered his things and staggered down the aisle and out to his waiting uncle.


Brad's uncle -- and his aunt, and all four of his rambunctious little cousins -- lived in a condo, with absolutely no space around it for planting anything.

"Isn't it great?" said his aunt cheerily, gathering up toys through the din of child warfare. "No need to cut the lawn or prune or water anything. It's so low-maintenance. I love it."

Brad stood a little rigidly, still holding his caprice. He was afraid to put it down inside, lest someone should knock it over. "Is there any place this can go?" he asked.

"I guess it could go in the windowsill in your room. You'll be sharing a room with Samuel."

"Awww, Moooom!" Samuel complained from somewhere behind the couch.

"Sam honey," said his mother warningly, "we already talked about this. Brad is family, and a room of your own is a luxury, not a right."

Privately, Brad shared Samuel's dismay. He knew it had been kind of his aunt and uncle to agree to take him in, but he really didn't want to share a room either. This household was pure chaos. He wasn't used to the noise and the lack of privacy, and there would be nowhere to grow anything. So much for putting down roots.

That night, as Samuel snored softly and tossed in his sleep, Brad sat awake in bed. The moonlight came in through the window, casting strange shadows on the caprice plant. He wondered if it, too, might be unhappy with its new surroundings. On a whim, he took it down from the sill and began to whisper to it.

"The lady on the bus said you liked to be talked to," he whispered. "I don't know if she's right, but I guess it can't hurt." He caught the scent of the caprice flowers, faint now but still sweet. "I was hoping this new place would be permanent, but I can see right now that it's not going to work. There's nowhere to plant anything. It's like an asphalt desert out there. Nowhere for you to live except inside the same old plastic pot." He sighed, looking up at the moon. "I wish..."

"...flaglbmm krwopskr..."

Brad jumped a bit, then realized the babble was coming from his cousin, talking in his sleep. Rattled by the weird outburst, he put the caprice back up on the windowsill and pulled up the covers, his wish still unspoken.

(If there is interest, I shall finish this later. For now, SLEEEEEP.)