The Keeper Of The Vineyard

Soon after the calamitous death of her grandfather, Lily Emmons, a young maid from Lavenham, traveled East to her late grandfather’s vineyard in Norwich during one sultry summer. What a sorrowful visit it was! She prayed desperately that God would send someone else into the vineyard, for the remembrance of her beloved relative was more than her feeble heart could endure. However, only she was able to tend to the ancient vineyard, for her father had died many years ago, and her mother was struck ill. Additionally, her sister was required to tend to her mother.

The woman had decided in her heart to sell the vineyard, for it was of little use to her and it had been in ruins for many years. In fact, after the passing of her grandmother and after her grandfather had become ill, it had not borne any crops as it once did. Every harvest her grandfather had gathered a plethora of plump grapes, from which his wife had often brewed wine. Now it lay dormant, no plants but weeds encircling the property. 

Though Lily had no want for such a place as this, her sister who always felt great joy when at the vineyard implored her to refurbish it, lest her memories be uprooted. Whether to take heed of the pleading of her younger sister she was unsure, but she had reassured the girl that she was willing to reconsider.

When the two of them were children, they would often run through the vineyard, chasing one another while their parents and grandparents gathered the grapes. Each summer their family had traveled to this ancient vineyard in Norwich. Lily's grandmother had always prepared delicious treats for them, from apple pies to tarts, and the children were always eager to devour them, for their needy and poor parents had never been able to bring such excitement to the girls. Although their diligent father had labored in such an honorable manner, he could hardly afford a small cottage with one bedroom and a kitchen. Their mother remained in the house all the day long, washing garments and preparing meals. She too worked diligently, offering great care to her children. The girls' grandparents were not wealthy by any means, but their grandfather constructed the small house on the vineyard himself, and their land was sufficient for them. Lily's grandfather was a skilled hunter, always bringing home large, robust bucks. 

Now, when young Lily had arrived, she was indeed afflicted with the strikes with which grief attacks. There before the gate, she saw her mother in good health, possessing a healthy bounty of thick brown locks and standing adjacent to a small barn on the fringe of the property. Lily shut her eyes in an attempt to relinquish the bitter memory, but she was not able. The maid began to let out a tender sob. 

The breeze was light and flowed peacefully in her dear mother’s hair, but to Lily it was intemperate. She clasped her face in frustration as a tear streamed down her right cheek. She despised this moment. Her shoulders were tense and her feet firmly planted in the thick, uncut grass that had not been tended to in years. At once her grandmother stepped out the delightfully new oak door holding a dish that carried a fragrant apple pie, fresh from the oven. The taste of the warm, viscid pie still enfolded her tongue. The pleasing smell pervaded her nostrils, and the tender call of her grandmother knelled in her ears.

A younger Lily, brimful of exultation, hastened toward her grandmother, grasping her leg. She refused to let go of her grandmother's dandelion dress as she let out a jubilant laugh. The scene was gorgeous, as the sun shone gracefully upon the family. The azure sky was at ease with the occasional stroke of cotton clouds painted across it. There were still drops of dew on the grass, but their yoke was light. They only slightly moistened her feet. The wind was playful and had only enough strength to carry away some fallen leaves. Undoubtedly, this was an astounding scene. 

Her mother beckoned her, possessing the compassionate countenance she had long pined for. Like a child, she ran through the gates, simply wishing to be in her family's healthy arms once more. However, as soon as so much as a toe came beyond the gates, her mother had vanished, and there were no longer any arms to hold her. The sun beamed harshly upon the back of her neck. There was no dew, but coarse grass only. Where her mother stood there was now only a rotten, fractured old door. There were no children playing, no father as their protector, no mother as their comforter. 

She wept bitterly as she now understood that the blessed and precious recollection of her past had been erased, never to be recalled again. She fell to her knees, and her face fell to her hands, for she had no comfort. There was nothing awaiting her at home but poverty. There was nothing awaiting her here but grief. Suddenly, she reached out to a patch of grass and tore it from the ground. She threw it away and fell to her face. She was alone. There was no one. However, hope did not forsake her, for there was One who had remained her companion, even closer than a brother.