Life in Rockwood
The Senorita had watched over Emilia Flores’s garden before there had been a garden. The old scarecrow had shown up not long after the first house had been built. No one could remember who put the Senorita up with her black flamenco dress stuffed with straw and her pumpkin head, painted black and white with her eyes closed and a wry smile across her lips. But she seemed to do no harm, and when the first house was torn down and a new one built in its place, pains were taken to not disturb the Senorita. And when Emilia had decided to plant a garden, beneath the Senorita’s watchful gaze seemed the right place for it.
The garden did flourish. Occasionally they’d find a dead rabbit or bird among the tomatoes and carrots. Emilia would remark that it was the Senorita taking her due, that death was part of life, and that there was no better metaphor than a garden.… Read the rest “A Dance with the Senorita”