Story 3 - seedling

I study the book with a frown, stare at the stack of trays before me, and look at the book again. I mumble, "Plant six trays each of chamomile, basil, lavender and thyme. The rest of the herbs in the basket need only two trays each. Make sure you set them into the greenhouse alternating, and to keep the trays with chamomile away from the trays with sage. They squabble." I shake my head at the book, and start to fill the first trays with soil. I look through the envelopes of seeds for the first of my herbs, and giggle when I pick out the chamomile and sage. I hold the bags up and put on a high, squeaky voice, "You suck, Sage!" Then a bassoon voice, "I hate you, Chamomile!" I giggle, set both packs of seeds on the counter, and turn around for the next bag of planting soil. When I turn back, I shriek, as the package of chamomile is now on the floor. I pick it up, set it back on the counter, and... is the sage package moving towards the chamomile? I grab the sage, stuff it all the way into the back of the box of seeds, and lean back against the work bench. Good grief. Who knew becoming the village's witch would be fraught with such dramatics!

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