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It was dry.

Drier than bone, drier than humor, drier than the driest sandpebble on the driest dune on the highest and driest desert on a sunburned planet drifting too close to it's old and overlarge star.

It had been months since the last rain drop fell from the last overburdened cloud. Months since the last person said "I wish it would stop raining". Months since the last blade of grass showed something other than brown or dead.

The little village was becoming very nervous. The well hadn't dried up yet, which was good, but it was getting pert near to close, which was bad. Folks was starting to move away, and more folks was startin' to talk like they was gonna move away just as quick. Me? I decided that I'd stick it out till the last person had left, and there weren't nothin' left here but dry and more dry. And me, of course.

The crops had dried up, the cows had dried up. Hmmm.. lemme ask you.. do you get the idea it was getting dry?

Anyways, I was a-sittin on the front porch on the rocking chair my granddad had made with his own two hands, just looking at the horizon. Clear skies, curse them, were reaching from the heavens down to the brown, burned earth. Dust rose all by itself from the roads, and every time someone came a-driving by, I waved at them with one finger, gently explaining to them that I needed no more dadburned dust in my lungs, thank you very much. Momma, God rest 'er, had raised me to be polite, after all. Bless their hearts.

It's not that I hadn't thought bout leavin', too. It's just that ... well... this was MY families land. We had been here forever and a day, and then some. Since the first Shopkeeper showed up and before. No way would I be giving up my pa's land like some lilly livered lizard looking for a cool rock somewhere else. No way.

Sure, the Shopkeepers had tried to help us. They're a good bunch, all in all, for a buncha magic users. Got nothin' gainst 'em. Even loved one of 'em once, but somehow it just didn't work out, but that's a whole 'nuther story.

Anyways, some of them Shopkeepers come down here one day with the idea of daming up the river, divertin' it, they said, to feed water to the crops. Hell, it's a mile to that river from the front of my land. I coulda tol 'em it wouldn't work, but why spoil their wantin' to help?

See, the river ain't no normal river. Sure, there's fish and crawdads and normal stuff in it like that, but, well, it's gotta mind of it's own. Tain't gonna go nowhere it's not normally sposed to go.

But one Shopkeeper, Archy something or other... Archy Meedy, I think, had this idear to make some fancy sorta pump, dig a trench in the ground from there to here and make what he called an awkweeduck. I didn't laugh at him. Everybody's got their own idears how the world works, y'see.

So I sat there, on the bank, watchin' all sorts of furious activity. So much work for so little results, but there you have it. Archy brought a specially carved log from somewhere, probly Dark Woods wood. There was a twisty turny groove carved from one pointy end all the way up to the other pointy end. Once he had this all laid out and set up on some fancy tripod with one pointy end stuck deep in the river, he laid a long horse trough looking thing that stretch the better part of a quarter mile.

He fixed some sorta gear looking thing to the tripod, gave it a little bit of a spin, and the big ol' log turned just fine. I will admit I raised an eyebrow over that. I didn't think they would even get that far. It was one purty looking thing with it turning and turning all by itself. Seems Archy was some sorta mechanical wizard or somesuch, and he just knew this would work. Said he saw it in his head. He shoulda waited for the second act.

The log twisted and turned and looked exactly like a big old screw sitting there, and sure enough, river water started to climb up that long groove curved in it. It looked like it should work. It had all the appearances supposed to work. If anything in the world coulda worked this thing was, to all the universes, the thing that coulda. Course, that just sets it up to fail.

Fail it did. Gloriously, fabulously, in only the way something that shouldn't have had to. As soon as the first drop fell down to the horse trough, that very drop crawled up the side of the trough, stood on the lip of that trough, and jumped to the ground. If that drop had had a thumb, it would have thumbed it's nose at poor Archy. If it had had a nose, too, I spose.

I could a told 'em that it wouldn't have worked. We farmers, we're not a dumb bunch. Sure, we may not have all that sophisticated education and all, but when it comes to the land, that we know for sure and true. I spect we know it a might better than just bout any building dwellin' Shopkeeper. But that's the way of it, don't you think? Everyone's got their job. Farmers do land, Shopkeepers do.. umm.. magic and whatnot. Not to say there haven't been any farmers that became shopkeepers and vicey versey, but that's not the normal way of things. Heck, there was even a Farmer's boy that disappeared one day by magic. Rumor is he's some big magical mucky much working with clocks, but I don't pay much attention to rumors.

We Farmers had already tried, you see. We dug this really big ditch from the farms to the river. It stretched two whole miles and was deep enough that Zeke, who stood six foot and some couldn't climb out. We dug it all the way to the river and on that last day, we had a big party, Shopkeepers and all, right before we broke that wall between ditch and river.

Wine was drunk, bread was broke, a whole pig was roasted, and a fine time was had by all, despite the dryness in the air, and the fact the ground was hard as baked rock. As the sun was starting to set, a big ol' bonfire was set, and a travelin' musical group, Queens Gamboni or somethin' like that, played a number of fine pieces. I danced with a number of women then, but none caught my eye. Danced with the singer of that group, and though she was a fine step and a fine lookin woman, she was with the picker of the group, so I, as any honorable bachelor would, kept a polite distance. Susy, I think her name was. And no, that ain't a tear in my eye, and don't you ask bout it no more.

Anyways, wine was drunk, food was et, and lots of folks made the decision to wait for first light before breaking the dam. Sounded like a darn right idear to me, as I could hardly stand. So I plopped right down were I was and fell asleep under the stars.

Well, I was woke by a buncha yelling like someone had set fire to someone else's new boots. Didn't take me long to rub the sleep outta my eyes and see what the hub bub was about.

Seems the others had politely decided to let me sleep through the beginning of the ceremonies. Not a big deal.. I ain't much for fancy stuff, but I sure would have liked to have seen it. From what I was told, when the wall between ditch and river was broke, the river just stayed right where it was. That was what all the yellin was bout.

So what I saw, once the sleepdust was rubbed outta my eyes, was this big ditch leading right up to a green wall of water. Just a wall, rushin' by as if nothin' at all had happened to try to maybe coax it in a differnt direction.

Hell, it was kinda funny, really, if it hadn't been so dissapointin'. You could see fishes swimmin' past. Deep river fishes, the ones that you can't catch cuz they've been around far too long and got far to smart. I 'memeber I made a joke bout makin it a 'quarium, like they have in big cities, but nobody laughed.

Wouldn't've mattered much anyways, cuz just bout then, there was this big ol' rumble, like the whole world had gotten an upset tummy, and just like a zipper, the whole ditch closed up. Startin from where we first started diggin all the way to the river, it just zipped shut. I'd like to think we were lucky to get the last guy outta that ditch, but I 'spect that the ground would have paused and waited. The ground has been good to us, somehow I don't think it would have actually hurt us. It just didn't want us to change the natural order of things, and wanted to make a big show of what it meant.

Well, that party broke up pretty quick like. Shopkeepers went back to bein' Shopkeepers. Farmers went back to dry, dusty earth. Folks started talkin' more bout leavin. I was gonna hang on, just cuz it was the right thing to do, I figgers.

So, anyways, back to me sitting on my front porch. I was watching the sky, lookin' for any sorta cloud, cept the ones that were so high up, you just knew they was lookin down and a-laughin at you. I hates them skinny lil boogers. Good as nothing. Some says they're the spirits of the dragons that used to fly 'round these parts, but I think they're full of it.

Way off towards the mountains, I saw a speck. The Great Plain that lay between my front porch and the Darklin Woods had turned as brown as any dirt that lay around, so it was easy to see this speck, as it was taller than the grasses, and a sight more colorful too.

Little splashes of rainbow would hit me full in the eyes. I could see some reds and a bit 'o green and yellow too. I watched this speck, a wondering what the holy hell it could be, till it took form and came a-rumblin' up my road.

There was this woman, looking cool as could be, and she was pushing what looked, for all the world, like a tea tray on wheels. He had this big ol' umbreller over the cart, so as to keep the sun off her, and from the points of the umbreller hung all manner of shiny things, like crystals the wizards use and bits of metal and jewels and such.

Now, she wasn't a skinny woman, not by all means. But she also wasn't what I'd call real big, either. Biggish, I reckon. Maybe as much as me in weight, and I'm not a lightweight. Not a real tall woman either. Bout as tall as me, I reckon.

Anyways, she was pushing this cart and singin'. Not a toe tappin' song, but one of those that you sorta sing to yourself when you're harvestin', you know.. to keep yourself company. She taught me that song, though I'll be darned if I'll sing it for you. Here's the words though:

The orange glows
In our garden-close
Under the noon
And under the moon,
And though winter-time
Is at its prime,
It seems like the heart of June,
And the mocking-bird sings at the dawning hour
To the orange fruit and the orange flower.


Cold is the theme
Of a bygone dream
Under the noon
And under the moon,
For the breeze has a scent
That is redolent
As a breath from the heart of June,
And the mocking-bird sings at the dawning hour
To the orange fruit and the orange flower.

That's what she sang, sorta pretty like, cuz she has that sorta voice.

Well sir, she pulled right up to my gate, and I didn't mind what little dust she had stirred up, cuz she looked at me and just smiled. The sorta smile that pulls birds from the trees, that pulls the the green from the corn, and makes the sorgum much more sweeter. To say I was enchanted would be an understatement, truth be told.

Bein' the gentleman I was raised to be, I stood up, walked down to her, stuck out my hand and introduced myself. Well, least that's what I would have done, but that smile just kept me pinned to that rocking chair like a butterfly on a board.

Instead, she let go of that cart she was a pushin', walked up the lil path to my front porch and said right to me, "Why Jonas! What are you doin here while everyone else seems to be packin to leave?"

Now, I be honest with you. I'm normally not a shy person. I'll wrestle men to the ground for the fun of it, and I'll wrestle woman to the ground if invited. I'll drink you under the table, and I'll drink you over the table, and I'll sing as offkey and as loud as anyone else, given the right incentive, but I was just dumb struck, dumb as an ol' mule. I didn't even stop to wonder how she knew my name.

I'm purty sure I mumbled something stupid, but she just laughed. She wasn't laughin AT me. I can tell when folks do that. She was just laughing, like life had tickled her ribs. I reckon she figured me out right then and there, cuz she walked up to me, stuck HER hand out and introduced herself to ME.

"I'm Heather, Peddler of Tea and Oranges. Sometimes I also watch the rain."

Twas my turn to laugh at that, and I told her why. "Lady, if you see any rain you just send it down this way. We ain't had rain in quite a spell."

"I can tell from the dust I kicked up on my way here. Even the swamp was less swampy." She stood up and walked back down to her cart. Now, she isn't a little woman, like I said, but she moved down my path like a dancer, and a part of me had wished she had been there the night of the ditch.

I still couldn't say much, seemed like my tongue had gotten stuck to the roof of my mouth and my throat was more dry than it already was. So I just watched as she lifted a little door on the side of her cart, and brought out a red tray. On that tray was a pitcher, two mugs, and a couple o' oranges. She walked back up that path.. no.. she danced up that path carrying that tray and never spilled a drop, nor rolled an orange. Like magic it was, which, I had figured out, it was.

She stood before me, and quick as two winks four legs dropped from that tray and it became a table. Heather sat that table between the rocking chairs on my porch and sat down in the rocking chair my granddad made for my grandma.

Keep in mind, I was entranced. I was under a spell of a sorts, remember. But Heather, well, she looked just like she just belonged there. Her sitting there in that chair made the entire world seem just right, as perfect a day as when the wind is blowin' all gentle, and the corn is tall and the wheat is waving back at you, happy as you please.

From the pitcher she poured tea. Sweet smelling, smelling of sassafras, smelling of earth and hard work and... well.. it just smelled good to me. She handed me one of the mugs and said "Tea, Jonas?" as if she had been doing all my life.

I don't mind telling you, even with you bein' a stranger and all, that something in me broke that day. Wasn't my heat, cuz that had been broke years before when my daddy and brothers died. Years before when my momma ran off to who knows where for who knows why. Wasn't my spirit, neither, cuz that's the one thing that I believe is pert near unbreakable.

I spect I reckon what it is, but that is one thing I won't share with you, no disrespect, what with you bein a stranger and all. Hope you don't mind. Mebbe after a few more ales, that may change, but right now, that's the way of it.

Anyways, tears just started a leaking down my face, and I swear I was a-sobbin', just like some big ol' baby. Heather just sat there, doing the exact right thing... the exact right thing. She just let me run my piece, let it finish and dry up and go away and let me get myself back to myself, and didn't say a durn thing, not one thing. Just sat there, sipping her tea, all gentle like, and waited.

When enough time had passed, she just said "Yep. That's the way of it, sometimes. The tea is good, Jonas. Have some."

And I did. I sipped that tea, sweet and dark and bitter all at the same time. I hadn't had sassafras tee for forever and a month of Sundays, but the memories it brought back were somethin' else. Back to my granddaddy's house and huntin' in the Darklin Wood. Kinda makes me teary eyed just a-thinkin' bout it. Scuze me... I gotta blow my nose.

Now, where was I. Oh yeah. Every so often a tear or two would still leak outta somewhere, and it would roll down my cheek and splash on the porch and sorta go rolling off on it's own. I peeked like a sneak to see if Heather was noticin', and that was a surprise in itself.

See, she was sitting there in my grandma's rocker, rocking as if she owned it, smiling at her own private joke, and she also had tears running down her cheeks. And she caught me peeking. I jerked my head away, so she wouldn't think me completely without manners, and she did the second exact right thing. She just reached over and patted my hand, not sayin' nothin'. Just lettin' me be.

Now, you're maybe not gonna believe the next part, but then again, you may have already figured it out. The tears was rolling off the front porch and onto the ground, which was sucking them up as fast as it could as dry as it was. All them tears went somewhere, and when one spot had gotten it's fill, well, they were just passed onto some other place. And everywhere a tear had filled, the earth turned less brown, and then a bit greenish, and then a lot greenish.

Soon, the whole yard was green, and we just sat on the porch, drinkin' our tea, tears rollin' down and out, feedin' the ground, makin' it new again.

Well, you can only shed so many tears they say, so when we were all dried up, Heather picked up one of the oranges and pulled the skin back from it. So sweet it was, so full of juice that it just squirted her, rainin' orange all over her face an into her hair. She just laughed, separated the orange out, an gave me a piece.

Yep, it was sweet, an even though I'm not much of an orange eater, I ate it as if it had been manna, and I'm not so sure it wasn't. With ever bite, I felt better, not that I had been feeling bad or sad, but I was feeling better, don'tcha understand. And that was when the miracle started.

Clouds were forming, see. They formed right from our front yard, and seemed to shoot up into the sky like it wouldn't have it. And these weren't lil fluffy clouds, no sirree. These were the ones with the bushy eyebrows, the ones that're called thunderheads, because they have a headache holding so much rain.

They came a-swirlin' outta the ground like the lord wouldn't have it. Up and up, up and up, till they were just a-covering the sky. The folks that were movin' out, stopped and looked up and watched, like dumbstruck cows.

Heather and me, we just sat on the front porch, watching the clouds gather. We both kinda sorta knew what had happened and just let it keep happening. We would flick the orange seeds out on to the ground, right there in front of us, and ever so often we would look over at each other and just smile, and I'll tell you, everything that coulda been said was said then and there.

So, the rain came after a whole lot of angry thunder, as if the clouds had been a party guest that had lost their invitations and somehow just now remembered what time they were supposed to show up. All sorts of lightning came down and scorched holes in the ground, which filled themselves back up, just like the ditch did.

It rained and it rained and then, after one single day of sunny weather, it rained again. It rained till the Great Plain was all green and a-swayin in the breeze like a land locked ocean. It rained till the corn was standing tall and bout to fall over on it's own accord. It rained till the river almost over flowed it's banks, which we all knew it wouldn't cuz that's not what the river does, don't you see?

Since that day, we've not had a drought or had to worry that it wouldn't rain. If we felt a might skittish bout it, well.. Heather and I would sit on our front porch, sipping sassafras and tossing orange seed to the front yard. And yep, that's where the orange grove came from. Trees grow, just like they are 'sposed to and I just replant 'em to where Heather tells me.

And Heather, well, she closed that umbreller and put up that ol' tea cart, moved in with me. Someday I'll introduce you to my grandkids. She may not be the prettiest gal I ever did dance with, but she's the prettiest gal I'll ever dance with.

And yeah, that's her hollerin' for me, which means I better shag my ol' butt offa this bar stool and head for home, before there's words. It was nice meeting ya.. what was your name again? Gwion.. yeah.. I remember. Say.. come over to the house sometime. Heather would love to meet you, she loves company.