Chapter 14
The sun beat down unmercifully, and it wasn't yet 10am. Aubrey Jones pulled his baseball cap down tight to shade his face and eyes from the glare above as he knelt in the landscaped garden and pulled up weeds.
It was 102 degrees out, he decided, without bothering to check the gauge on his converted golf cart. The sticky sweetness of the Georgia summers had never bothered Aubrey. He even seemed to thrive on the heat and humidity that sent decent people running for air-conditioned cover. Aubrey always laughed to himself when he saw the sweat pouring off of their bodies, staining their clothes. Look at the white people melting, he thought.
Aubrey mopped his brow quickly, then stuffed the bandana back into his pocket.
He inspected the stems of the day lilies as he uprooted the unwanted volunteers around them, then he moved on to the next cluster of azalea bushes. Aubrey had worked these grounds since he had been a teenager, and thirty some years later he was supervising manager of the grounds crew for the exclusive, two-hundred-year-old Magnolia Grove Country Club . Not bad for an uneducated black man in Savannah, or so his employer frequently reminded him.
Uneducated. He always laughed at that designation, too, as though studying to be a master gardner were no more difficult than applying for a gun permit.
He heard the crackle of conversation on his radio. It was the usual banter from the high school and college kids working their summer jobs. Aubrey shook his head. These kids today had no idea how easy they had it, not having to pretend they were ignorant simpletons, singing "We aims to please" just to get a minimum wage job. Nowadays, Aubrey's own children could walk onto the Magnolia grounds, their dark faces causing nothing more than a whispered stirred through the rest of the membership. "Not like back days," Aubrey whispered to himself, though silently acknowledging that Savannah still had a ways to go.
Aubrey reached down to his belt and turned down the volume on the radio, then stepped deeper into the pink azaleas. He got down on his knees to push deep in, bending low to inspect the roots and trunks of the flowering shrubs. Spotting a clump of weeds, Aubrey reached out to pull up the offenders, and then stopped. He crawled in closer to get a better look. Gently, he touched the felt-like leaves, studying the patterns of dark and light green on their faces. He examined the patterns of the clustered leaves in wonder.
"It can't be," he whispered to himself. Aubrey snapped off a small leaf from the cluster and crawled back out onto the grass. He sat on the ground, turning the tiny specimen over in his hands, holding it up to the bright sunlight and then studying it in shadow. At last, he broke off a small piece of the leaf and placed it on his tongue. He chewed it lightly as his face brightened.
"I'll be damned!" Excited, Aubrey crawled back underneath the azalea bushes and spied the prized herb plant that had sprung up on the country club grounds. He checked for the root network he knew would be there, then rested back on his knees and smiled. All of the ancient names echoed through his head -- angel balm, aengus wort, pandora's trove, dog's ear, honshawe, oberia leaf, kehmut.... It had finally come to Savannah.
It was 102 degrees out, he decided, without bothering to check the gauge on his converted golf cart. The sticky sweetness of the Georgia summers had never bothered Aubrey. He even seemed to thrive on the heat and humidity that sent decent people running for air-conditioned cover. Aubrey always laughed to himself when he saw the sweat pouring off of their bodies, staining their clothes. Look at the white people melting, he thought.
Aubrey mopped his brow quickly, then stuffed the bandana back into his pocket.
He inspected the stems of the day lilies as he uprooted the unwanted volunteers around them, then he moved on to the next cluster of azalea bushes. Aubrey had worked these grounds since he had been a teenager, and thirty some years later he was supervising manager of the grounds crew for the exclusive, two-hundred-year-old Magnolia Grove Country Club . Not bad for an uneducated black man in Savannah, or so his employer frequently reminded him.
Uneducated. He always laughed at that designation, too, as though studying to be a master gardner were no more difficult than applying for a gun permit.
He heard the crackle of conversation on his radio. It was the usual banter from the high school and college kids working their summer jobs. Aubrey shook his head. These kids today had no idea how easy they had it, not having to pretend they were ignorant simpletons, singing "We aims to please" just to get a minimum wage job. Nowadays, Aubrey's own children could walk onto the Magnolia grounds, their dark faces causing nothing more than a whispered stirred through the rest of the membership. "Not like back days," Aubrey whispered to himself, though silently acknowledging that Savannah still had a ways to go.
Aubrey reached down to his belt and turned down the volume on the radio, then stepped deeper into the pink azaleas. He got down on his knees to push deep in, bending low to inspect the roots and trunks of the flowering shrubs. Spotting a clump of weeds, Aubrey reached out to pull up the offenders, and then stopped. He crawled in closer to get a better look. Gently, he touched the felt-like leaves, studying the patterns of dark and light green on their faces. He examined the patterns of the clustered leaves in wonder.
"It can't be," he whispered to himself. Aubrey snapped off a small leaf from the cluster and crawled back out onto the grass. He sat on the ground, turning the tiny specimen over in his hands, holding it up to the bright sunlight and then studying it in shadow. At last, he broke off a small piece of the leaf and placed it on his tongue. He chewed it lightly as his face brightened.
"I'll be damned!" Excited, Aubrey crawled back underneath the azalea bushes and spied the prized herb plant that had sprung up on the country club grounds. He checked for the root network he knew would be there, then rested back on his knees and smiled. All of the ancient names echoed through his head -- angel balm, aengus wort, pandora's trove, dog's ear, honshawe, oberia leaf, kehmut.... It had finally come to Savannah.
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