43

Reaching again for the wax jacket, Mr Armitage arose and walked into his garden. He made his way up, keeping his eyes ahead, searching for the boy, to ensure he kept his distance. He continued through the gate into the sisters' field. He approached one of the mounds and laid his hands upon it. He wished it were time to plant now. Waiting for spring was always hard. This empty time was when he felt most distant from the girls. The harvest had always been an act of remembrance, at first for their heritage and then for their lives. Mr Armitage had learnt the practice in which he now farmed from their tribe, the Haudenosaunee. The western farming tradition pained Mr Armitage, its structure and isolated efficiency. He despised the monocultures of British farms and the chemicals needed to satisfy our laziness.

The Haudenosaunee had better ways - the three sisters. In another month or so, once the frost cleared, and the sun spent enough time bathing the field, even while a chill remained, he would tend again to the mounds, and lay down the first of the sisters - the corn. The corn always sprouted quickly, incredibly so. It would break through the softening ground and begin rushing to the sky. Though remaining but one sister, the land would limit its gifts and the table would be plain. So when the stalks began to show, Mr Armitage would bed in the second sister. They would come up a little slower, but the beans, who would usually require a trellis - dead sticks and twine - would instead hug their sister, the stretching corn. A remarkable girl, doing for free what agri-business products make millions doing - managing to crystallise the nitrogen in the atmosphere for food for her older sister, and the younger, a quieter, slower girl. Lastly, Mr Armitage laid the pumpkin seeds on top of and between the mounds, and their great leaves would stretch out, protecting the moisture needed for the roots, and protecting their older sisters from pests that would damage them at their more tender height.

These three sisters each ensured their mutual benefit. They kept themselves and the land well with practically no input from Mr Armitage at all. He thanked them again for their harmony and generosity. He never ate meals with these ingredients, save their coming from his field. He had not eaten of it for many months. He felt his stomach groan slightly. He was hungry.