Organizing
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THE NEXT DAY, WREN stood in the middle of her property with her hands on her hips, surveying the chaos.
She’d spent the night thinking about long term plans and what she’d like the property to look like going forward, and realized that she didn’t have a plan.
She’d just been growing things as she went, but last night she’d realized that she could have a really pretty place, if only she put a little thought into it.
Looking at the farm with new eyes, she saw that trees were scattered everywhere with no rhyme or reason. The breadfruit grew next to the silk tree and the soapberry. Her beautiful new pond was surrounded by... velvet bushes and gourd plants. It was a mess. A functional mess, but still a mess.
"This needs to be organized," she muttered.
Walter appeared on a nearby branch. "Finally admitting it's gotten out of hand, madam?"
"It's not out of hand, it's just..." She gestured vaguely. "Random. I need a plan."
She pulled out a stick and started sketching in a patch of bare dirt, thinking out loud.
"The kitchen garden should be near the treehouse—breadfruit, eggplant, milkweed, buttercup.
Things I use every day should have easy access.
" She drew a rough circle near where the treehouse would be. That wasn’t as clear as she would like, so she hunkered down and started using rocks and sticks as markers.
That was better, but she needed to buy writing materials on her next trip to town.
"Utility area to the side, with soap, sponges, brushes. It’s useful but not necessarily pretty, so maybe I’ll screen it with something nicer later."
"Trade goods section—that's important. Silk trees, velvet, cotton, all the things I sell at premium should be grouped so I can harvest efficiently." She marked out a larger area.
"The pond should be a centerpiece, with a decorative area around it. Chocolate vine, pretty plants, maybe a place to sit eventually." She was getting excited now, seeing it in her mind.
"Defense perimeter around the edges where the dandelions patrol. Clear sightlines to the shield wall." That was a thing, wasn’t it? It was good to see if trouble was coming.
"And of course there’s space for expansion, with ten acres. I have room for experiments, for orchards maybe, or whatever else I want to try." She stepped back, looking at her dirt sketch. It made sense. Functional but also... nice. Pretty, even. "Right," she said decisively. "Time to reorganize!"
It took the better part of the morning. Some trees could be moved—she'd learned that the smaller ones would uproot and replant easily if she asked them to. Others were already too established and she'd just have to work around them.
By the time she was done, her property looked intentional. Organized. The kitchen garden was close and convenient. The trade goods section was clearly defined. The pond sat like a jewel in what was becoming a pleasure garden, with the chocolate vine climbing nearby.
She stood back, sweaty and satisfied.
"Much better," Walter approved. "Very civilized."
"Now I can start expanding properly." She looked toward the outer perimeter, where the dandelions would return with their latest haul soon—she hoped. She’d discovered by an unpleasant smell on the dandelion’s breath that they had found their own fertilizer: monster poop.
Gross, but they were plants. Thankfully, they could forage for their own supply, as well as start a compost pile for her farm.
"And I should probably try to grow some defensive plants. The lions are good, but I should have backup." She reached into her purse, sorting through seeds.
Snapdragon.
Perfect. Dragons for defense. That would be amazing. She planted it along the defense perimeter and stepped back.
"Grow."
The plant shot up, thick-stemmed and vigorous. Flower buds formed—large, shaped like dragon heads. They bloomed, and actual dragons emerged.
Tiny dragons, no bigger than house cats, with scales that looked sharp and gleaming teeth. They unfurled their wings and... One sneezed, and shattered. Pieces of dragon scattered across the grass like broken pottery.
Wren stared.
Another dragon stretched, yawned, and its jaw fell off, then its tail. Then it just... crumbled into pieces. Within seconds, all the dragons had disintegrated into piles of fragile scale-pieces.
"Oh," Wren said faintly. "They're... fragile."
"Very fragile, madam," Walter observed. "Perhaps not ideal for defense."
"Perhaps not." She tried not to feel too disappointed. Maybe something else would work better.
Dogwood.
Dogs were loyal. Protective. Guard dogs made of wood would be perfect! She planted it in the same spot.
"Grow."
The tree rose up, branches spreading, and from those branches, wooden dogs began to form. Beautiful carved dogs in various breeds—a mastiff, a shepherd, a hound. They dropped from the tree, landed on their paws, and immediately started barking. Loud, enthusiastic, constant barking.
"Oh! Hello! Good dogs! It's okay—"
They didn't stop.
They barked at her. At Walter. At the trees. At the sky. At absolutely nothing.
The noise was incredible. Echoing across her property, probably audible in town. "STOP!" Wren shouted.
They kept barking.
She tried everything—commanded them to be quiet, offered them food (they had no proper mouths, just carved snouts that opened and closed with each bark), and tried to lead them away. Nothing worked.
After ten minutes of unrelenting wooden barking, Wren gave up and uprooted the tree. The dogs dissolved immediately, thank God, and blissful silence returned. She stood there, slightly deaf, and looked at the empty spot where her defensive plants had failed spectacularly.
"So," Walter said delicately. "Perhaps combat isn't your strength?"
"Perhaps not," Wren admitted.
She looked at her kitchen garden, her trade goods section, her beautiful pond. All thriving. All perfect.
"I'm good at food and practical things...and pretty things." She nodded slowly. "I should stick to what works."
"A wise decision, madam."
"The dandelions can handle defense. And if I need more protection, I'll..." She paused. "I'll figure something out. Trade for it. Hire guards. Something."
She didn't need to be good at everything. She just needed to be smart about what she was good at.
And apparently, that was everything except combat.
––––––––
AT EXACTLY TWO O'CLOCK, the dandelions returned.
She went out to meet them, relief flooding through her.
Two dandelions stood there, hollow bodies stuffed with glowing blue bulbs.
She thought they were just getting food for themselves, but they took it upon themselves to stock the shield wall with extra bulbs. Their golden eyes were bright, alert.
Only two.
"Where's the third?" she asked, even though she knew they couldn't answer.
The larger one—her original survivor, still bearing scars from the first night—made a low sound. Mournful, almost.
The other one had fresh gouges along its flank. Deep cuts that leaked clear sap. They'd fought. And one hadn't made it back.
"I'm sorry," Wren said quietly. She helped them unload the bulbs. "Thank you. You did well." They were plants. Just plants. Useful, loyal, effective plants that she could grow more of, but still. One had been destroyed protecting her interests.
She planted two more seeds to replace the losses. Four dandelions total now—enough for patrols and bulb gathering.
After she installed the fresh bulbs and the shield hummed with renewed strength, she returned to her experiments, a little sobered. No more combat plants right now; it was too depressing. But she had other ideas.
She pulled out another seed, this one feeling promising.
Money plant.
Her heart raced. Money, actual currency! If this worked... She planted it in her trade goods section and watched eagerly.
The plant grew quickly, and coins began to form on the branches.
Silver coins, shining and perfect. Wren plucked one, examined it closely.
It was paper, not metal. She unwrapped it and found a thin mint.
Chocolate mint candy, perfectly round, with a sweet mint filling.
"You have got to be kidding me," she said, but she was laughing despite her disappointment.
It was delicious, cool and chocolatey—but not money.
"Well," Walter said philosophically, "they'll trade well at least. Children love sweets."
True. She gathered several dozen and added them to her trade goods, thinking that they were their own kind of treasure.
Next attempt.
Pigweed.
Pork products would be great! Ham, bacon, sausages were premium trade goods. She planted it hopefully.
The plant grew tall and leafy, and cans began to form. Actual metal cans with labels. Wren picked one up and read the label.
“GreenHam” it said in bold letters. Smaller, it said: “No pig. No problem.”
"Oh, come on!"
She opened it. Inside was exactly what it looked like—processed meat product, pink and formed into a perfect rectangular block. She tried a bite. It tasted like... the famous canned pork product she’d grown up on. Not bad, actually. Salty, savory, and it would keep well.
But not exactly bacon, and certainly not meat.
"It's protein," Walter offered. "Shelf-stable protein. That's valuable."
"I know, I just..." She sighed. "I was hoping for bacon."
"Weren't we all, madam."
She planted several more pigweed plants anyway. “GreenHam” wasn't glamorous, but it was practical. And it would definitely trade.
Two failures, two semi-successes. She was learning her limits. Time to try something she felt more confident about.
Spaghetti squash.
The plant grew vigorously, and squashes formed—large, oval, golden. When she opened one, actual cooked spaghetti spilled out. Perfectly cooked, still warm, ready to eat. Success!
Beefsteak tomato.
The plant produced what looked like large tomatoes, but when she picked one, it was heavy. Solid. She cut it open and found a perfect steak. Marbled, raw, ready to cook.
"Now that's more like it!" she said, grinning.
She went through more seeds, testing, experimenting:
Sugar maple—produced leaves of crystallized maple sugar. Perfect for sweetening and trade.
Honeyberry—small clusters of waxy capsules that looked like vitamins but were filled with honey. As a honey lover, she was especially excited by those.
Oyster plant—grew on cattail-like stalks near her pond, producing fresh oysters in shells. As a bonus, they occasionally contained a tiny seed pearl.
Mussel sprouts—clustered like Brussels sprouts but each one was a green mussel. She was on the fence about mussels in general, but maybe she hadn’t had them cooked right. At any rate, someone would buy them.
Rubber tree—produced finished rubber goods: boots, gloves, waterproof items. An exciting development! She was tired of getting soaked tending to her farm.
By late afternoon, her organized garden was filling in beautifully. Kitchen plants were thriving and the trade goods were expanding. The decorative area around the pond looked lovely with the new additions.
Also, she'd learned something important: she was terrible at combat plants, mediocre at specialty items, but excellent at food and practical goods.
That was fine, more than fine, she thought, looking around her farm. She had lots to work with, and the future was looking bright indeed.