Four Garden Scents and a Trail

An old garden table stood beside the jammed season wheel. Four empty leaf bowls rested on top. Puschel took bread from the travel basket while Flauschi searched the wild garden for something fresh to add to their snack.

She returned with fragrant strawberries from the spring bed, a small bunch of summer mint, two crisp autumn apples and a handful of ice-cold winter berries. The glass flower lay exactly once in the middle of the table, its green ribbon neatly coiled.

Puschel divided everything between the four bowls. When he accidentally placed the winter berries beside the warm mint, the bowl misted over and slid across the table. Flauschi caught it with a folded leaf. Flauschi“The ingredients seem to prefer their own seasons.”

They carried each bowl to the edge of its matching garden section. At once, four narrow lines lit up in the ground. Each led to a different spoke of the great wheel.

Puschel bit into a slice of apple and studied the trapped hub. Puschel“Now we know which spoke belongs where.” Flauschi handed him a strawberry. Flauschi“But we still do not know which comes first.” They left the four bowls as markers. In the morning, they would examine the wheel carefully—with full bellies and no hasty turning.