Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

Hattie did not feel the full effects of the wine at lunch until she got up from the table to go upstairs. A sudden rush of well-being was followed by the sensation her body was weightless; each step was effortless but left her giddy. She paused at the top of the stairs for Edward, who seemed a bit unsteady himself. She stifled a smile and took his arm in hers; a nap would be just the cure for their wine-tipsy condition.

As they removed their shoes and loosened their clothes Hattie praised the people and gardens of Tuscany, then Edward gaily interrupted her to praise the wine above all. They laughed together and Hattie felt a sense of camaraderie with her husband that filled her heart with passion. As he sat on the edge of the bed, she leaned over and kissed him ardently on the back of the neck. In the the glow of the wine they forgot themselves and the awkward moments and embarrassments of their previous attempts at sexual intimacy. This session took them quite far indeed, although they stopped short of the act. They lay side by side holding hands in silence, their clothing all askew. Edward listened to Hattie’s breathing, slow as she fell asleep, but found himself wide awake, his heart pounding. It was the Indian girl who stirred Hattie’s maternal instincts and caused her to change her mind; now she wanted to conceive a child; that was quite clear.

Later, as they dressed to go downstairs, Edward was quite talkative about hybrid gladiolus, as if he wanted to avoid any discussion of the earlier flailing and groping. Hattie planted a kiss on his forehead as he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. She wanted to put him at ease, to let him know she was not embarrassed by their fling. It must have been the wine, she said with a smile; Edward nodded but did not look up as he tried to decide between a walking shoe and jodhpur boot for their tour of the terraced gardens.

He hoped to photograph the professoressa ’s collection of artifacts, if she agreed; though why would she refuse? A few photographs could not matter when the artifacts were already exposed to the rain and the sun. He told Hattie he still found it difficult to believe. Was the entire collection displayed out of doors? Personally he found the Old European artifacts crude and unappealing; still, he was amazed their hostess, who called herself a scholar, risked rare archaeological artifacts simply to decorate a garden. Perhaps stone artifacts could survive display outdoors, but what about the ancient terra-cottas, exposed to the ravages of the sun and the weather?

Hattie smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him; she put her arm through his. She felt so much affection for Edward at that moment — more strongly than ever before — and she wanted to savor the affection she felt.

But Edward went on: here truly was an affront to science and scholarship! Hattie began to be annoyed by Edward’s criticism of their generous hostess. Aunt Bronwyn said the professoressa took great care with the installation of each artifact. Shouldn’t they see the arrangements made for the artifacts in the gardens first, before they condemned her? No, it was the principle of the matter; artifacts of the early millennia belonged in the hands of scientists and scholars, not in gardens! Edward felt confident in the glow of the wine and continued: a connection must exist between the absent husband and the exposure of the artifacts. Poor Laura must have suffered a breakdown! Hattie frowned; Aunt Bronwyn said nothing of the sort.

Indigo woke from her nap to a snapping, splintering sound of dry wood; for an instant she wondered what it could be; then she jumped up, her heart pounding, just as Rainbow took another colored pencil into his beak from the box. The black pencil that she used to outline and to write words was broken in half, so she could still use it; but splinters and bits of the silver and gold pencils littered the floor around the travel cage, where the parrot was perched on top. She felt lucky to wake up before he destroyed all the color pencils; she did not think she would have much use for those colors anyway. The gold and silver pencils left heavy, greasy marks. Please don’t do that again, she told him as he watched her shut the pencil box.

As they came downstairs, Laura greeted them; Indigo and her parrot were already waiting in the green garden. Even the shadows and the shade were green in this lovely garden. Indigo and the parrot raced around to each of the empty niches and pedestals they’d seen earlier.

The afternoon light was a lovely chrome yellow filtered through the great trees. Laura explained as they walked she made her decision carefully, over a year or more, after visits abroad to the most eminent collections of museums in Eastern Europe. The museums, public or private, were dour and depressing, even suffocating; fortunately she met Aunt Bronwyn then, and only Aunt Bronwyn’s companionship and good cheer sustained her. The day she stepped out into the sunshine from a museum in Crakow, she made her decision: the figures of stone and terra-cotta must have fresh air and sunshine, not burial in a museum.

Edward set his jaw, determined not to betray his true feelings as their hostess explained how each winter when the first storm clouds gathered, the figures were wrapped in wool and placed in their boxes indoors. Birds of a feather, this woman and Hattie’s old aunt; this was what happened when irreplaceable scientific data fell into the wrong hands. What a frivolous woman! She seemed to have thrown over her study of the fourth- and fifth-millennium artifacts to take up gladiolus gardening. Little wonder that her husband was gone!

They stepped down four stone steps through an old stone gateway, and suddenly, everywhere Hattie looked, she saw tall spikes of black gladiolus flowers more densely planted than she ever imagined possible. Hundreds — maybe a thousand — of corms were planted, at heaven knew what cost, to crowd the entire garden with tall spikes of black blossoms — black-rose and black-red was even more amazing. Hattie thought gladiolus came only in pink, white, or yellow.

From the back wall by the gate, terrace after terrace, all the way to the lily tank in the center below, were tall spikes of black gladiolus flowers. Her first glimpse startled her because for an instant she thought something had burned or blackened the garden, before she realized it was a black garden. Here and there the garden of black was accented with scatterings of white, dove gray, and blossoms of mottled lavender and rose. Indigo looked up at Hattie and both their faces lit up with excitement and they exclaimed together: “Look!” Indigo’s eyes were wide and she did not gallop about with the parrot but remained next to Hattie. For just an instant when she first saw them, Indigo mistook the tall spikes of black flowers for a big flock of blackbirds sitting among green leaves, swaying ever so slightly in a current of air; in the afternoon light the blossoms seemed almost to glisten like black feathers. Indigo took a deep breath and exclaimed with delight. Smell them! These gladiolus are perfumed!

Edward stopped for an instant at the sight of hundreds, maybe thousands, of the tall black flower spikes, rising out of the terrace flower beds like battalions of black knights. He had never seen such a luxury of Dutch bulbs as this planting of unusual hybrid colors. A display like this cost a great deal, though at least in Lucca’s mild climate the bulbs did not have to be lifted in the winter.

The old stone terraces were carefully repaired but otherwise left untouched; the heavy rich Lucca soil had been leavened with the sandy loam favored by gladiolus. Edward had not seen or even read about such a display of gladiolus — tulips and narcissus, of course. He never cared for gladiolus; ordinarily, he found the tall spikes of flowers quite vulgar — tall upstarts and darlings of the florists that intruded here and there among other flowers in borders or in vases; but the grand scale of the old terraced garden displayed these black gladiolus to their best advantage.