“My, my. Has it been so long since I’ve walked here? Quite impressive indeed.”
I look up from where I’d been trying and failing to encourage a triad of vines to weave together as they grew, to see Margot admiring my works. He seems lost in the gardens, leaning on a cane of dark wood and interwoven bronze.
“I appreciate the compliment,” I say, letting go of the forces within the vines. They spin as they unwind, leaning away from each other like petulant children in dispute. I frown at them before rising. “I’ve tried to take your advice and work on something new every day. I’m sure I could’ve done more, were I more skilled.”
“Bah. Youth’s ever-failing eyesight. Come here, oh-ever-self-impressed one.”
I bite my tongue and shoulder my toolkit as I join him.
“Look around you. Look at what you’ve made.”
I cast my gaze around the enclave, one of three that make up the garden path that now leads to the tower. I frown at the many half-finished projects, but quiet the indignation as I look over them; I’d absolutely gained from each of them.
And with that in mind, I looked again. One of the first week’s projects had been a bench grown from three saplings, weaving together to form a seat and then growing away to give a fringed back. While it could use tending, it did seem quite solid now that it’d been growing for a month or two on its own. I’d not noticed. And thinking on it, I’d probably be better placed to do it again now, since those same techniques are those I was playing with today, on much more willful plants, in fact.
Most of my attempts give feelings like that. The rootvale I’d tried to nurse to coil up a scholark tree now weaves on the ground around it and another, growing with quite an appetite and making itself easily cut into measured pieces. A pool I’d tried to cultivate into water plants was still verdant.
Not at all what I’d been thinking of them as. Even in failing, they wound up being better than the bare earth or the limited grounds I’d started with. And all that I learned along the way…
“Have you forgotten how to use your tongue, child? I’m sure Fnipper will be saddened to hear that.”
I spin and scrunch my blushing face at the beaming old man, almost running into his outstreched arm, which drops my traveling satchel in front of me, landing softly at my feet.
“What-” I start.
“You’re using the wrong eyes.”
“You… mean… I should be viewing this as an artist?” I say, putting the pieces together.
“Yes. And this is twofold as a request. I need this staff empowered,” he taps the cain against the cobbles, and the ground trembles as though an anvil toppled on the spot. “To that end, I’d have you spend the day sketching your artistry, as well.”
I look back to the bench. The outward curve of the path that leads to the edges of the ‘feet’, and the graceful filigree-esque coils in the bark as it rises. The seat, which would serve a dyad beautifully on an autumnal morning, the rusty leaves drifting around them from the scholark trees above.
The type of scene set by a proud street artist to capture a moment of joy between lovers.
The pool I’d hoped to have frogs and waterplants in had, without my attention, started to grow deep green frilled mushrooms I’m not familiar with, which are now hung with webbing of some kind, giving the appearance of tiny squat houses with yellow awnings. The moss which covered the original post and bowl I’d started with painting beautiful swirls in line with the runes I’d carved to keep the water flowing.
Not failures at all. Beautiful, in all the natural glory that comes from the wilderness simply doing its own thing when you let it.
Not. Failures.
I nod, realizing I’m grinning now, and Margot offers the cane toward me. It tingles with elemental energies as I rest my fingers on it, pulling at all the energies in my body, letting them cram their way into the staff. The cold drags on my body as my stores flee, but I am not exhausted by this, somehow. I feel relieved of it all. Lighter, now, as I scoop up my bag and flip it open, my tablet making me smile like seeing an old friend, even if I’d used it twice this week still.
I believe it was nigh an hour later when I thought I wish Margot well on his errand, I’d so completely forgotten his role in this…