JUST TOO BLOOMING GREEDY
By David Stevens.
The idea behind purchasing the island had seemed so logical when he had been standing alone on it’s beach, but now standing in his home, looking out at his neatly trimmed lawn through a glass window, surrounded by the normalcy of his life, he was having doubts. To solve his concerns and before the purchase actually went through, and he is finally fully committed to the island, he decides to revisit his potential property, if only to see if it still had the same lure for him, as it had previously.
That is how a multi-billionaire developer found himself standing alone on a white sand beach, looking out to sea, feeling very puzzled by the total lack of interest the island had so far engendered in him. Still he had the mountain to walk to, and if he was feeling energetic, even climb.
There was of course the streams flowing and tumbling down the mountain’s side for fresh water, and then there was the grassland with its surrounding boarders of swampy mud. ‘Well standing here would do me no good,’ the boat had departed leaving him alone on the island, just as he wanted to be, alone, to make a decision.
He had supplies and his portable camping gear, and it would be three days before anyone returned to collect him from this beach, so he had three full days in which to make his final decision. He headed inland, intending to reach the fertile plain with its swaths of waving grass and of course the delightful multi-headed purple plants he had so enjoyed seeing on his last trip.
The hike inland passed an hour only, as the island was not very big as islands went, but by the time he reached his destination his whole mental state had changed. He now felt that he belonged there, that this island was the sanctuary he has always sought, and of course he just had to buy it! An idea sprang from the recesses of his mind, an idea to develop the island, no, not for the tourist trade. No, his idea was to develop his island into a commune of sorts, not of course a commune for long haired hippies, but instead for people that would feel dedicated to the protection of this, their island home to create a place a sanctuary for people just like him, people that would enjoy the peace and self determination the island had to offer.
He put down his tent, being very careful not to squash any of the beautiful multi-headed blooms poking up out of the green foliage, which had spread all over the open plain. He had by chance or so it seemed to him, chosen the only pathway that led to the only place on the whole plain, that the ground was not scattered and covered by the wide, deep green and heavily veined leaves. All fanning out from the multiple single stems on which the multi-heads of the many blooms grew. He put down the bags he had carried from the beach, intending to pitch his tent first before making himself a meal.
Then for no good reason he felt an indescribable desire to fetch water. He unpacked a collapsible container, he glanced around him and immediately set off following a new and unknown pathway, which brought him after a mile or so to a small, but fast flowing stream. He dipped and filled the container and returned along the path to his camp site. He poured just enough of the water into his kettle, and set it to boil on the primus stove, intending to make tea once the water boiled.
The rest of the water he at first thought he would set aside for later need, perhaps in the shade of one of the large blooms, but as he approached the plant he felt quite sorry for it somehow, the ground at its base looked so dry that he reasoned that the plant must be very thirsty. He carefully tipped the remaining water near to the plant’s roots, watching as it soaked into the ground, there to be sucked up by the plant. He felt a great swelling of pleasure at having delivered the fresh water to the plant, smiling to himself first, and then thinking, ‘Why Not?’ He approached another plant and watering it like he had the first, that one he followed by another one, and another one.
It took him lots of energy draining trips to the stream’s water collection point, each trip saw him struggle to carry back his very full, very heavy container of water for the flowers. Having made certain that on each return he poured the water very carefully, tipping the container of water only around the plants roots, not splashing their leaves, or giving each plant more than it wanted or needed. Repeatedly he would once he had emptied his container return to refill it. He ran out of the precious water quite quickly, so again and again as necessary he would fetch more, before finally he had watered all of the thirsty looking field of wild growing plants.
That had been when the commune idea sprang back into his mind, he would advertise for a dozen or so volunteers, each would be hand selected by him to come to live on his island and enjoy all the benefits the island clearly had to offer to them. He slept that night deeply and very well, exhausted by his actions and that despite the fact that he had not assembled his tent and therefore was sleeping under the stars. The water container was empty, so in the morning first thing, off he went to fetch some more water so that he could enjoy his morning tea.
The time had flown by completely unnoticed by the water-carrier, it was now fast approaching twelve o’clock mid-day. All of the plants have drunk their fill, and now he is having his first drink of the day. The sun was high in the sky and it was very hot, though quite dry, and all of the blooms were spread wide open before him, soon they would need to drink again he thought. I had better hurry up and drink my tea or the flowers will not get their afternoon attention.
His thoughts became muddled up and confused, much like they had he realised, first thing that morning. Again he spent long hours caring for the needs of the plants whilst he totally ignored his own. He had not eaten since having arrived on the island, despite having plenty of food with him ready to cook. Food had not even crossed his mind, or the plants, they get all the nutrients they desired directly from the fertile earth, he on the other hand did not, but the plants did not know that. He collapses before them, totally dehydrated; spilling his last water container full to the brim over the dry barren earth, the container he intended for the plants to drink, the very last container that he would ever carry for the blooming, greedy, flowers.
Almost daily we hear of new and wondrous plants being discovered in long lost, or little explored places around our globe. I wonderer sometimes, if each of these discoveries will turn out to be a boon for mankind, or perhaps they might pose a threat? Such musings often allow the stories access into daylight, in the form of typed letters on a piece of paper. This was one such story, it is only a musing, an entertaining passage of time and perhaps it is an impossibility in reality, but there and again, and with all the new discoveries and the genetic modification of plants and seeds, perhaps it is not only a story, perhaps it might be a prediction of things to come?