The Garden Between Seasons - A Short Story
This Week’s Dose of Fiction collected as a full arc.
The garden teaches us more than how to grow food or flowers.
It keeps our bodies moving in ways the gym never could. It calms our minds, asking us to slow down with the seasons. And it draws us together—around herbs in the kitchen, laughter on the veranda, and even the rustle of a night visitor.
This week in the canyon, Riley, Skylar, Val, Raven, Ben, Cameron, and Channing each found their own kind of medicine in the soil. Sometimes it looked like rosemary and sage, other times it looked like friendship held steady in the cool autumn air.
Here’s the full arc, gathered for you to read straight through. May it stir your own reflections on how tending a garden, and tending each other, carry us toward the holidays ahead.
The Garden Between Seasons
Riley
The pumpkins in Riley’s raised bed had taken on that deep, burnished orange that meant fall was truly here. She pressed a palm against one, feeling its cool weight. Her body moved slower these days too, joints aching when the mornings turned crisp. But the garden gave her reason to stretch, lift, bend. A kind of movement the gym had never offered.
As she clipped dried zinnias, she thought about how the season pulled everything inward, plants conserving, people gathering, the canyon itself leaning into its quiet. Yet, in that stillness, she felt something stir. A tug toward connection she couldn’t name.
When Quinn called from the veranda, Riley wiped her hands and turned. From the front of the house came a call she hadn’t expected. A voice that carried too many memories to mistake.
Skylar — The Weight She Didn’t Expect
Skylar always said she didn’t need exercise. “I lift life every day.” Yet as she carried a watering can down Riley’s path, her breath caught. She paused, leaning against the rosemary. The air was sharp with its scent, almost medicinal.
She laughed softly to herself. Who knew that lifting water, bending for weeds, stretching toward sagging trellises would become her training? Not for beauty, but for staying strong enough to keep showing up.
When she straightened, she caught Riley watching her. A quick look, then turned away, distracted. Skylar frowned. Riley wasn’t usually the one to drift off mid-moment.
Skylar whispered to the rosemary: “Don’t let me fade.” Then louder, with her old sparkle, “Who’s ready for cider?”
The others cheered from the veranda, unaware of the private conversation she’d just had with a plant.
But Riley was still listening to something else. A voice Skylar hadn’t heard. A voice that seemed to come from beyond the garden’s edge.
And later that night, Skylar would wonder — what had unsettled her friend in the middle of such a simple task?
Val - Little Can Escape Her
Val arrived with her basket of herbs, still damp from the garden. Basil, thyme, and sage. The scents reminded her of kitchens once filled with noise and laughter, before she moved away.
She laid the leaves on Riley’s table, inhaling deeply. Cooking together had become their ritual. Chopping, stirring, tasting, each woman adding a piece of herself. Tonight they’d make a stew hearty enough for the coming chill.
But as Val reached for the thyme, Riley slipped outside, almost unnoticed. When she returned, her eyes seemed brighter, though she said nothing. Val didn’t press. But later, as they stirred the pot, Val caught Riley touching her own wrist as if it had just been held.
And Val wondered, who was strong enough to shift Riley’s mood in the space of a single breath?
Raven — The Breath Between Tasks
The others worked quickly — chopping, stirring, and setting the table. Raven lingered outside, crouching by the late marigolds. Bees still hummed lazily, gathering what little remained.
She rose and turned toward the veranda. Just for a moment, she thought she saw someone slip past the fence. A figure too tall for Skylar, too quick for Ben. Raven blinked and it was gone.
When she finally returned inside, Skylar teased, “Lose your way among the flowers?”
Raven only smiled. “Maybe I found it.” But her thoughts drifted back to that shadow near the garden beds.
And she wondered, what else was the canyon holding between its silences?
Ben — The Garden Drinks Too
Ben was in charge of mixing drinks, which meant half the herbs vanished into cocktails instead of stew. Mint, basil, rosemary, each sprig muddled into a glass.
“Plants like a little celebration too,” he grinned, lifting a pitcher of sangria dangerously close to a flowerpot. The women shrieked in mock protest, laughter spilling into the night.
He raised his glass higher. “To the soil that feeds us. To the friends who keep us standing.”
The words hung longer than he expected. For a beat, silence. Then, from somewhere beyond the garden, a laugh joined theirs. Soft, unmistakably human.
Ben froze. The others glanced around. Riley’s face betrayed something more than surprise.
And in that moment, Ben realized this gathering was larger than the circle he could see.
Cameron & Channing — The Night Visitor
The pair arrived late, flashlights in hand, after chasing the rustle near the garden beds. “We found tracks,” Cameron announced, dust on her knees. “Not deer. Maybe javelina.”
The group leaned close as she described the trail. But Riley’s gaze stayed fixed on the darkness beyond.
Channing lifted a half-eaten pumpkin. “Guess someone else is decorating early for the holidays.” Laughter rippled, but faltered when Riley turned sharply toward the fence. A shape moved there. Not an animal, not an illusion.
Riley’s lips parted as though to call out, then closed just as quickly.
And while the others argued about animals, Riley knew the garden had already welcomed someone else in.
Which moment spoke to you most this week? I’d love to know.
