Tuesday, March 03, 2009
“I want my tree there,” said Lucy, pointing.
Julie groaned. It had taken her three years to graft a scion of the Fudge Apple onto a dwarf rootstock and now Lucy wanted it planted in the one place it was sure to die. “You can’t love,” she said. “That’s where your Uncle Frederick’s car is buried.”
Lucy frowned. “Don’t be silly. You don’t bury a car. You send it to a car graveyard where old men look after it until it falls apart.”
Lucy frowned. “When did you ever go to a scrapyard?” she asked.
This was a pretty dilemma. How do you explain to a seven year old girl that a car is buried so that its ghost remains usable? Without scaring her?