strawberry fields forever

Each of the past several days had brought the same tired weather pattern to Vale's neck of the woods.

Dark skies that barely let any light into their cottage and the constant tap of rain at their windows were their constant companions.

(It didn't help that a new acquaintance's last conversation with them before bed yesterday contained a couple comments meant as lighthearted teasing that had left a bad taste in Vale's mouth.)

Luckily for them, as soon as they opened their eyes, they made two very important discoveries.

First: their room was brightly lit!

Second: it was Monday!

One could imagine how extraordinarily lucky Vale felt when they got up that morning to see bright rays of sun peeking through the gaps in their curtains after the storm, but being excited for a Monday? Almost unthinkable. After all, a mere few months ago, they wouldn't have been inclined to think positively on a Monday morning. Who would? That had changed not too long ago after striking up a friendship with someone on a whim while reading classified ads – someone with a gorgeous garden and absolutely no idea what to plant in it!

Vale themself had plenty of theoretical knowledge about what plants you could put in a garden in their region and expect to grow well, but almost no opportunity to put that knowledge into practice. A certain baseline level of function was required to plant and maintain a garden, and it just wasn't in the cards for Vale any time soon.

The opportunity first arose as an anonymous "Help Wanted" classified, where a total stranger poured their heart out for the world – they'd been left a garden as part of some property they'd inherited when a relative recently died. For reasons they "wouldn't elaborate on to strangers", they needed to get the garden planned out as soon as possible. Vale poured their heart into the project, eager to have something to research and even happier to be making a new friend with similar interests in the same general geographic area. It'd been hard for Vale to find people with common interests willing to work around the difficulties their lifestyle posed, and while they would never specifically help someone just to get a new friend out of the deal, they'd have been lying if they'd said they weren't hoping for it.

Their correspondent was deeply reclusive. At first, their letters shared almost nothing besides the essential detail. All their letters were written in perfect English, with no spelling mistakes to be found.

As time passed, though, details spilled out. Getting to slowly tease out more information about their personal life from their new friend as they spoke more and more was becoming a highlight of Vale's Monday letters.

The correspondence campaign started in earnest after one particular frustrating exchange. "I'm starting to think it might be faster if you just came over and told me what bed to put these bulbs in instead of this back and forth!" they'd written Vale in exasperation.

Vale had taken a full week to respond. The letter they had to write was draining, and it took a lot of careful thought for Vale to strike a balance between informative and oversharing. The vulnerability inherent in explaining the health nonsense they dealt with and how it affected their life left them anxious all week while they waited to see what their friend would have to say.

Fear of criticism, or accusations of playing make-believe, or hamming up their symptoms itched at them while they waited. At best, Vale would have considered themself lucky to just get some awkward platitudes. At worst? New friend who.

But the very next Monday at the same time as ever, a miracle occurred. Another cream-colored envelope arrived in the mail addressed to one V Lastname in neat green ink.

They truly hadn't expected to receive heartfelt support from their friend, or the incredible surprise the day had brought – copies of pictures of their friend's garden! It was important for their friend to give Vale something of the garden they were working so hard to help with. "Agoraphobia and fatigue be damned, you've helped me with this more than anyone else and I want you to be able to see the thing in person in some way." It was the first time Vale could remember seeing them swear.

Any letters their friend sent always smelled of the earth, and of something musty, and of something herbal. Usually they were simple handmade cards made of a piece of cardstock folded in half. They didn't do much to embellish the letters, but in Vale's eyes, they didn't need to – the prize was in the correspondence itself, not how aesthetically pleasing it may or may not look. And what a prize it was! Shortly after the photos started appearing, their friend had begun gluing the pictures directly to the front of their cards. Vale always displayed the most recent card they were sent on their kitchen counter, and whenever they received a new card, they'd carefully put the previous one back in its envelope and tuck it in a box in the closet for safekeeping.

With the beginning of what they called their great correspondence campaign had come some changes in Vale's routine. They were one of the first houses the mail was delivered to each day, and they did their best to get out of bed as quickly as possible on Mondays.

It didn't take them particularly long to work up the ability to do so. A brief trip to the bathroom to freshen up after a full night's sleep, then they made their way outside to their porch chair – grabbing the folder that contained what stationary they owned on their way out.

As usual, once they'd opened their mailbox, Vale discovered a familiar letter was the only thing sitting in it. With a grin, they made their way to the chair on their patio and took a seat. The brisk spring breeze whipped through their not-yet-brushed hair as they eagerly read the contents of the letter.

V,

The tomatoes are finally in the ground - your advice on getting them started made all the difference for me. They're so cute in their little rows!

The lettuce seems to be doubling in size every day!

Now, I am beginning to worry about the carrots. There are some small black spots on their leaves that I think could be signs of that blight you told me to watch out for. Any idea how to counteract this?

Your friend

The picture carefully centered and glued onto the front of the card showed the carrots in question, so Vale held the card up to their face and let their eyes focus on the leaves themselves.

It quickly became obvious what exactly the problem was.

Hey -

That's just dirt! It shouldn't do any harm, but if it bothers you then you can wipe it off the leaves for sure.

Have you planted the radishes yet? It's the perfect time of year, especially after the rain we just had!

Talk soon,
V

As soon as they'd made sure the ink was dry, Vale folded the envelope into thirds and stuffed it into one of the boring white envelopes they'd bought in bulk forever ago. They were finally starting to make a dent in the supply of envelopes and were looking forward to being able to buy some cute stationary!

Clipped to their board was a paper folder that held what stickers and stamps they did have. With gusto, they rummaged through the folder looking for a strawberry sticker sheet – they grabbed the first stamp they saw, too. Vale peeled the nicest strawberry off the page and pressed it directly over the center of the envelope to seal it without licking the nasty glue "included for their convenience" or whatever.

They'd long since memorized the address and number of the PO box they'd given them, but Vale always found themself checking the piece of paper it was written on just in case they messed something up. Carefully, they copied down the address they'd been given, then put their own info on the envelope also. A final once-over left them pleased with the result. Into the mailbox it went, to be picked up tomorrow and - if luck and travel speed was on their side - read by their friend the very next day.