Community Gardens (Community Garden Series Book 1) by Karin Boutall

Prologue

    Sand
Hill Cove, Mississippi
    Blue
Moon 2001

    A goblin hobbled
beneath an ancient live oak tree dripping with Spanish moss. A ghoul
followed. A tall woman, cloaked in a pointed black hat, swooped to
kiss a vampire. Behind them lurked Superman, the Hulk and a monster.
Together they hiked down Main Street, chatting and laughing. After
the monster hooted at the moon, the crew paraded into Holden's Books.
Behind the coffee bar, Blaine Holden, the owner of Holden's Books,
was dressed in a massive hair wig and red-painted lips. He waved his
chubby arms at the ghastly crew; the vendors from the farmer's market
of Sand Hill Cove.
    In
the corner, Buzz Egan, the local beekeeper, opened a laptop and
tapped a microphone.
    “This
is Buzz Egan broadcasting live on internet radio from Holden's Books
in Sand Hill Cove, Mississippi. It is October 31st, 2001 and a very
special night. It is the night of the rare blue moon, the thirteenth
full moon of the year. Tonight's Blue Moon Festival is a unique
event, indeed, because tonight is also All Saints Day. That's called
Halloween, for you folks who aren't familiar. This celebration was
kicked off earlier with a parade that was held beneath the live oak
canopy of Sand Hill Cove, the busiest small town on the Gulf Coast.”
    As
the crew partied, a lone woman left the shop. She passed the beer
gardens. Glass mugs clinked and mingled with the music. Whiffs of
smoke and yeasty beer crisscrossed in the damp air and filled her
nostrils. The orange glow of restaurant lights dimmed behind her as
she walked away from Main Street. Three blocks away, her antebellum
home set atop a hill and within view of Sand Hill Marsh. The night
was dark and the black, slick water of the marsh would be lit by the
glimmer of the blue moon. A black cat darted out from under a gnarled
swamp oak. She lurched, then whispered, “I just want to go home
and be left alone.”
    * * *
    Early
the next morning, the woman blew steam away from her coffee mug. She
savored the rich, bitter taste, mixed with velvety cream. She stood
on top of a hill that housed the library. To the north she could see
Main Street. Smashed pumpkins and beer cans lined the walks. This
Halloween was the busiest she had ever attended. The parade was
noisier, the dancing wilder, and the garbage more profuse than she
had ever seen. But then she could not remember a festival that
included Halloween and a Blue Moon Festival on the same night. As
with all town festivals though, and there were many, she and the
volunteer crews would manage to clean the trash away, no matter how
messy the event.
    Looking
south, she eyed the quiet waters of Sand Hill Marsh as it lapped on
the shore. This time of year the threat of hurricanes had passed and
the waters were especially calm. The marsh was home to alligators,
birds, fish and venomous creatures. Her favorite creature was the
white crane, a long, graceful animal. It launched from the marsh with
a gradual lift, like a giant 747 on take-off. Beyond the marsh, the
Mississippi Sound was alive, with dolphins playing, pelicans diving
and mullet jumping in its shallow, warm waters. Beyond the barrier
islands lay the Gulf of Mexico, its deep waters stretching further
than the horizon.
    The
woman set her coffee aside and pulled a new pair of garden gloves
over her well-manicured hands. She had planned on planting the
knock-out roses in early October, but the heat and humidity had been
unbearable. This morning was much better. She started planting just
before dawn. She chose knock-out roses for the bright red color, like
the red of Christmas ribbons, but doubted they would bloom through
the season. In fact, even though they were the hardiest of all roses,
she expected them to go into shock. She carefully crumbled some dirt
and mixed it with peat, then shoveled the mixture in the hole where
she'd planted the roses. Next, she capped the hole with pine mulch
then watered it to completely remove any air