“Sassafras, this sapling will make it after all,” said Manax.
The dog didn’t care about olive trees or any trees. He wanted to get back to his bed in the barn.
Manax’s family had grown olives on the land for thousands of years. He wondered what would happen to the grove once he died, having left no heir.
“Time was this grove hosted marvelous dances and picnics. The singing and music were the best part; you should have seen it, Sassafras. Of course, you weren’t even born back then,” remarked the man.
Manax pruned the young olive tree and thought about how life prunes loved ones from us. Festus was the first of us to go. He broke his neck falling from the tree right there,” said Manax as he attempted to draw the dog’s attention.
After his brother’s death, Manax’s younger sister was next. She died in childbirth, pruning another limb of the family tree.
Ma lived on for a while after Lucy’s death. In the end, her heart couldn’t take the loss, so she followed Pa, who was ten years gone,” said Manax.
His wife, Helen, and their twin boys were the last to go when the Black Death came through, leaving Manax alone.
Seems a waste, doesn’t it, boy? All these beautiful trees will destroyed. Leaving nothing of the people who lived here for centuries,” said Manax as he stroked the dog’s back.
The two rose and returned to the farm, where tea, biscuits, and a juicy bone were.
“I’m not dead yet. There’s hope someone will come and care for our memories. Care for the trees, make the memories theirs, and help them grow for another thousand years,” said the man.
“Only the Gods know, right, Sassaphas?” said Manx, giving the dog a firm pat on his head.
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