The Very First Water Lily


"I'm saving as many cucumbers as I can this year, so I can come see you everyday! Year round!"

The farmer girl glowed with pride. I noticed that her basket was filled with cucumbers, turnips, strawberries, and potatoes. Her delight was irritably contagious. But Spring was a joyful time for me anyway, so I attempted to shrug her affect on me off.

"Winter, no." I grinned.

She rolled her eyes with a winning smile, "Well, you'll have to count on that to get rid of me. Only the forces of nature will do it!"

She was about to walk away, but something in me would not let her go. "Wait."

The way her posture perked up, the speed with which she swiveled around to return to the lake side, baffled me. She laughed, "'Wait'! Don't tell me you aren't annoyed by me anymore! That wouldn't do!"

I grumbled, but it came out as more of a gurgle. I swam a few yards over to a field of lily pads and gently plucked a fully bloomed flower. I held it up to her, "First lily of the year. Like the first cucumber."

Instead of bursting into exclamations of gratitude and delight, her face shone with a quieter happiness. This startled me more than the expected response would have done. She tucked it behind her ear and thanked me. As she walked away, I realized just how early the lilies were thriving. A creeping, unsettling suspicion that my own warm state was translating into the lake swept over me, and I sunk into the water with a groan.