PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
Each fall for thirty years they dredged the lake bottom. Pungent deposits, once dried, became super-soil they used to grow dahlias, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and the rest. Money earned from the produce sold at market was enough to keep their lakeside cabin warm in winter.
Spring 2020, gale-force winds clenched planted rows of seedlings with great handfuls of black gold and hurled them into oblivion first. Then it grabbed the roof whole and ripped it loose. It never was found.
The old ways of hard labor and counting on the blessings of nature were over. They moved to the city.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the dependable host of Friday Fictioneers.