Apathy is
09-03-2015, 08:34 PM
Once upon a time there was a woman named Julia.
Julia had recently ended a relationship with a beautiful, but bitter young man. Actually, he had been the one to end it. He’d often complained that he found her boundless optimism annoying, and he’d never really seem to share her sense of humor.
But she had been surprised and distressed by his abrupt departure from their anniversary picnic. Sure a bird had pooped on their pears and stolen half of the cheese, but they still had the wine and boiled eggs he’d packed. As he’d evidently forgotten about her egg allergy, there would have been plenty to fill him up. When she’d tried to cheer him up, saying he could have all the eggs (she didn’t want to distress him further by pointing out he’d forgotten her allergy) and she would be fine with the wine and the slightly nibbled cheese, he’d stormed off with the basket, shouting he was done and mumbling about how bizarre it was to never be bothered by anything.
When she’d arrived at the trail head to find the car gone, she’d thought, Well, at least we hadn’t poured the wine; I’ll have plenty for the 10 mile walk home. She had been a bit worried about him, though. He’d been in such a state when he’d left. She hoped he’d calmed down enough to get home safely.
Her spirits had temporarily flagged when she’d arrived at their small apartment to find her her cat, Elmer, in a carrier, next to her purse just outside the locked door. Evidently the 3 hours it had taken her to get home had not been enough for him to cheer up, and he’d really meant it when he’d said he was done. She’d trudged to her car, making only half-hearted attempts to reassure Elmer that everything would be ok, because really, she wasn't sure it would, and she didn’t want to lie to him.
But then Julia found he’d thoughtfully loaded the car with most of her belongings, even thinking to cover the more tempting items, like her laptop, with piles of her clothes, and she began to feel better. Looking back, she did wish he’d included the container for the cat food he’d so kindly provided; it had taken her quite a while to collect all the kernels from the floor boards and there was still a bit of a lingering smell, but Elmer had helped find the stray pieces, and even seemed to quite enjoy it.
Now, six months later, things were going fairly well. She’d been a little short on funds for new housing, so at first she’d stayed at her parents small apartment in the city. But Elmer hated being locked inside, Frank showed no sign of changing his mind, and her parents were soon due their annual 3 week stay in the apartment, so after a week, she’d moved to the farm her family owned, 2 hours north of the city.
Long ago it had been a great fruit plantation, home to her great, great, great-grandparents and their 12 children. A small village had grown up around it to support the dozens of workers needed to run the plantation. But when all the men of the family and village went off to WWII, and her maternal great-grandmother, the only girl in the family, left to play for the new professional women’s baseball league, the family had parceled out much of the land to the families of workers that had kept the farm running for so long, and her grandmother, and then her mother, had inherited the remaining land with its plantation house and all the cabins built by the non-inheriting younger children and grandchildren, who had long since left.
Her mother still hoped to retire to the farm, but several years earlier her father had been given the opportunity to live out his dream of being a professional iceberg mover, so for now she lived on various ships in the arctic, and the farm was left to Julia.
She’d chosen one of the small cottages that seemed in the least poor condition, and begun fixing it up. Her mother helped her paint during her annual visit. So far, the kitchen and bedroom looked great and she was considering reestablishing some of the fruit orchards and maybe planting a raised vegetable garden.
Day 1
One Monday in December, as she stood surveying land, trying to decide what she should plant and where, the UPS man arrived carrying a very oddly shaped package.
“Hello,” she said, “Is that… whatever that is… for me?
“Are you Julia Upside?”
“Yes, that’s me. Is that package… squawking?”
“Yep, or chirping maybe. ” said the man, looking slightly amused. “It has a nice floral scent as well.”
“How odd,” Julia said.
As the UPS man returned to his truck, she opened the letter attached to the package.
Dear Julia,
I know we did not part on the best terms, and that has been bothering me. I
wanted to give you this little token to remember me by. A few other items will
follow.
Yours,
Frank
“Oh,” Julia said as she tore the wrapping away, “It’s a little tree! I think it’s a pear tree. With it’s own sweet little bird. Well that answers what I should plant first. How lovely.” The Cornell Lab app on her phone quickly informed her that the bird was a partridge, it was female, and would probably prefer to live in a flock.
“I'm afraid I don't have any other partriges for you, little one, but you are still welcome to stay if you like.” And she went to get a shovel to plant the tree.
Day 2
The next day, while she was watering her new pear tree, the UPS truck pulled up again, and out got the UPS man with a package that was strikingly similar to the the first she’d received and a smaller square box that was decidedly noisy and more than a little smelly.
“Oh my,” Julia said to the man.
“Hey,” he replied, “I was curious about what was in the first package, so I was glad to come back, even if this other package could smell a little better.”
“Oh!” Julia said, pointing at the little tree she was watering, “It was a pear tree. Isn’t it lovely? And the chirping was from a little partridge. She’s around here somewhere. I thought she might leave to find herself a flock, but so far she's stayed.”
“Now she has one buddy, at least,” said the man, handing over the new pear tree. “And you do actually need more than one pear tree if you want to get pears. There are some sort of pigeon things in here, judging from the cooing, maybe they’ll be friends with the partriges.“
Julia took the smaller package, wrinkling her nose and listening.
“Doves.” she said frowning. “I don’t really like doves. At my last apartment, doves nested in all the trees. They never shut up and they were constantly flying into the windows and stunning themselves. Frank must have thought I actually liked them - I was forever rescuing the witless things and taking them to the only vet nice enough to take them in - but really, I just didn’t want my cat to distribute small bits of them about the yard.”
“Do you know the wretched things are federally protected? You can get a license to hunt them, but otherwise you aren’t supposed to mess with them. Makes perfect sense, right? I always had to fill out paperwork on them, and I worried I would eventually get in trouble for ‘interfering’ with so many of them.”
“Definitely a bit odd to send someone trees and birds,” the UPS guy said a little dubiously, “He must really think you like them. The pear trees are nice anyway.”
As the UPS guy returned to his truck, Julia opened the box of doves. They cocked their little heads and cooed indignantly at her, then flew to the first pear tree.
After consulting her gardening app, Julia planted the second pear tree about 12’ from the first, accompanied by the doves incessant cooing. She glared at them. “Feel free to return to where ever you came from. Really, I can’t think you’ll like it here at all. I have a cat. And two partridges. You’ll never get along.”
“Coo-coo-ca-coooo,” they replied.
Julia had recently ended a relationship with a beautiful, but bitter young man. Actually, he had been the one to end it. He’d often complained that he found her boundless optimism annoying, and he’d never really seem to share her sense of humor.
But she had been surprised and distressed by his abrupt departure from their anniversary picnic. Sure a bird had pooped on their pears and stolen half of the cheese, but they still had the wine and boiled eggs he’d packed. As he’d evidently forgotten about her egg allergy, there would have been plenty to fill him up. When she’d tried to cheer him up, saying he could have all the eggs (she didn’t want to distress him further by pointing out he’d forgotten her allergy) and she would be fine with the wine and the slightly nibbled cheese, he’d stormed off with the basket, shouting he was done and mumbling about how bizarre it was to never be bothered by anything.
When she’d arrived at the trail head to find the car gone, she’d thought, Well, at least we hadn’t poured the wine; I’ll have plenty for the 10 mile walk home. She had been a bit worried about him, though. He’d been in such a state when he’d left. She hoped he’d calmed down enough to get home safely.
Her spirits had temporarily flagged when she’d arrived at their small apartment to find her her cat, Elmer, in a carrier, next to her purse just outside the locked door. Evidently the 3 hours it had taken her to get home had not been enough for him to cheer up, and he’d really meant it when he’d said he was done. She’d trudged to her car, making only half-hearted attempts to reassure Elmer that everything would be ok, because really, she wasn't sure it would, and she didn’t want to lie to him.
But then Julia found he’d thoughtfully loaded the car with most of her belongings, even thinking to cover the more tempting items, like her laptop, with piles of her clothes, and she began to feel better. Looking back, she did wish he’d included the container for the cat food he’d so kindly provided; it had taken her quite a while to collect all the kernels from the floor boards and there was still a bit of a lingering smell, but Elmer had helped find the stray pieces, and even seemed to quite enjoy it.
Now, six months later, things were going fairly well. She’d been a little short on funds for new housing, so at first she’d stayed at her parents small apartment in the city. But Elmer hated being locked inside, Frank showed no sign of changing his mind, and her parents were soon due their annual 3 week stay in the apartment, so after a week, she’d moved to the farm her family owned, 2 hours north of the city.
Long ago it had been a great fruit plantation, home to her great, great, great-grandparents and their 12 children. A small village had grown up around it to support the dozens of workers needed to run the plantation. But when all the men of the family and village went off to WWII, and her maternal great-grandmother, the only girl in the family, left to play for the new professional women’s baseball league, the family had parceled out much of the land to the families of workers that had kept the farm running for so long, and her grandmother, and then her mother, had inherited the remaining land with its plantation house and all the cabins built by the non-inheriting younger children and grandchildren, who had long since left.
Her mother still hoped to retire to the farm, but several years earlier her father had been given the opportunity to live out his dream of being a professional iceberg mover, so for now she lived on various ships in the arctic, and the farm was left to Julia.
She’d chosen one of the small cottages that seemed in the least poor condition, and begun fixing it up. Her mother helped her paint during her annual visit. So far, the kitchen and bedroom looked great and she was considering reestablishing some of the fruit orchards and maybe planting a raised vegetable garden.
Day 1
One Monday in December, as she stood surveying land, trying to decide what she should plant and where, the UPS man arrived carrying a very oddly shaped package.
“Hello,” she said, “Is that… whatever that is… for me?
“Are you Julia Upside?”
“Yes, that’s me. Is that package… squawking?”
“Yep, or chirping maybe. ” said the man, looking slightly amused. “It has a nice floral scent as well.”
“How odd,” Julia said.
As the UPS man returned to his truck, she opened the letter attached to the package.
Dear Julia,
I know we did not part on the best terms, and that has been bothering me. I
wanted to give you this little token to remember me by. A few other items will
follow.
Yours,
Frank
“Oh,” Julia said as she tore the wrapping away, “It’s a little tree! I think it’s a pear tree. With it’s own sweet little bird. Well that answers what I should plant first. How lovely.” The Cornell Lab app on her phone quickly informed her that the bird was a partridge, it was female, and would probably prefer to live in a flock.
“I'm afraid I don't have any other partriges for you, little one, but you are still welcome to stay if you like.” And she went to get a shovel to plant the tree.
Day 2
The next day, while she was watering her new pear tree, the UPS truck pulled up again, and out got the UPS man with a package that was strikingly similar to the the first she’d received and a smaller square box that was decidedly noisy and more than a little smelly.
“Oh my,” Julia said to the man.
“Hey,” he replied, “I was curious about what was in the first package, so I was glad to come back, even if this other package could smell a little better.”
“Oh!” Julia said, pointing at the little tree she was watering, “It was a pear tree. Isn’t it lovely? And the chirping was from a little partridge. She’s around here somewhere. I thought she might leave to find herself a flock, but so far she's stayed.”
“Now she has one buddy, at least,” said the man, handing over the new pear tree. “And you do actually need more than one pear tree if you want to get pears. There are some sort of pigeon things in here, judging from the cooing, maybe they’ll be friends with the partriges.“
Julia took the smaller package, wrinkling her nose and listening.
“Doves.” she said frowning. “I don’t really like doves. At my last apartment, doves nested in all the trees. They never shut up and they were constantly flying into the windows and stunning themselves. Frank must have thought I actually liked them - I was forever rescuing the witless things and taking them to the only vet nice enough to take them in - but really, I just didn’t want my cat to distribute small bits of them about the yard.”
“Do you know the wretched things are federally protected? You can get a license to hunt them, but otherwise you aren’t supposed to mess with them. Makes perfect sense, right? I always had to fill out paperwork on them, and I worried I would eventually get in trouble for ‘interfering’ with so many of them.”
“Definitely a bit odd to send someone trees and birds,” the UPS guy said a little dubiously, “He must really think you like them. The pear trees are nice anyway.”
As the UPS guy returned to his truck, Julia opened the box of doves. They cocked their little heads and cooed indignantly at her, then flew to the first pear tree.
After consulting her gardening app, Julia planted the second pear tree about 12’ from the first, accompanied by the doves incessant cooing. She glared at them. “Feel free to return to where ever you came from. Really, I can’t think you’ll like it here at all. I have a cat. And two partridges. You’ll never get along.”
“Coo-coo-ca-coooo,” they replied.