The Seed

by Lynne Cantwell

Overview

Something odd is going on at Susan's farm-turned-ceramics-studio. Her boyfriend moved out, her latest commission has been canceled, and rabbits are getting into her garden. Now one of her dogs is sick. And to top it off, her dotty old neighbor lady is going on and on about a "seed." Things have been going from bad to worse for Susan all summer. Could a legend be coming to life in the woods behind Susan's house?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781934614167
Publisher:	Calderwood Books
Publication date:	11/17/2007
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	19
File size:	74 KB

Read an Excerpt

The last few weeks had not gone well for Susan. First, the contract that was supposed to get her through the summer fell apart. The dealer had sounded so positive on the phone. He had seen some of her work at a craft sale over the winter and was anxious to hire her to make commemorative cups for his company's anniversary celebration in the fall. But after visiting her studio last week, he changed his mind. The kindest word he could muster for her latest work was "derivative".

Derivative of what? she wondered. I'm using the same designs as before, the same glazes, the same clay I dig myself. How could last year's cups be breathtaking and original, and this year's be derivative?

She shook her head. Her thoughts could go round and round on that topic all day, and she would still be no nearer paying the rent and feeding herself and her dogs. At least she had one less mouth to feed since her no-good freeloader of a boyfriend had cleared out. "And good riddance to him," she said aloud, then sniffed. Truth to tell, she sort of missed him. At least he had helped around the house a little; now she had to do everything herself.

"Why, Sue," she said to herself, "this moping about isn't like you. Maybe what you need is a walk in the woods." She stood from her chair in the studio, clasped her hands and stretched them high over her head. Then she reached for her walking stick, ambled out to the backyard, and whistled for the dogs.

Candy, the Irish setter, loped round the corner of the house immediately. But Boris, the Heinz-57 hound, was nowhere in sight.