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Fertile Earth BY ANNE WHITEHOUSE

I.

In the corner of the garden we found the perfect spot for the damask rose “Celsiana,” but when we dug, we hit a boulder. I said, “Let’s plant somewhere else.” “No,” she disagreed, “we’ll find a way.” For two hours we dug around it, but couldn’t get it to budge. With a plank, we made a lever. The two of us stood on one end and bounced up and down and finally felt it dislodge. It took two planks and the two of us working all day to dig it out: there, at last, unearthed, a rock the size of a coffee table. Two women, one aging and one old-we gaped in awe of what we’d done. 50

Niche No. 3  

Fiction by William E. Burleson, Don Kunz, Maghan Lusk, Christopher Chilton. Art by Otha Davis III, and Sarah Katharina Kay, Creative Nonfi...

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