«Oh, Zara, your grandkids have stripped every last blueberry bush clean!» The neighbor didnt even blink. «So what? Theyre only kids.» «What do you mean, so what? Theyve ruined my entire harvest!» «Tina, love, dont get yourself in a state over a few berries.»
Tina Whitaker loved her morning ritualstrolling around her cottage garden with a cuppa in hand, checking on her vegetable patches and admiring the fruit trees. Her plot with her husband, Peter Whitaker, was spaciousfifteen acres in total. Half was dedicated to potatoes, carrots, and cabbages, while the other half boasted apple and pear trees, along with berry bushes.
She took particular pride in her blueberry bushes. Five years ago, shed planted the first saplings, and this summer, she was finally expecting a proper yield. Nearby, blackberry bushes thrived, rewarding them with plump, sweet fruit every year. Along the fence, grapevines hung heavy with clusters that would ripen by late August.
«Peter, come look at these blueberriestheyre coming along nicely!» shed call.
«Lovely,» hed agree.
In the summer, their grandchildrentwelve-year-old Archie and ten-year-old Lottiewould visit. Theyd help in the garden, pick berries, and splash about in the nearby stream. Tina adored them.
Next door lived Zara Simmons. Her plot was smallerjust six acreswith no vegetable patch, only flower beds and a modest cottage. Every summer, she hosted her five grandchildren, aged four to fourteen. Their parents worked in the city, leaving Zara to manage the lively bunch on her own.
The children all got along, running between the two gardens. Tina never mindedin fact, she loved the sound of their laughter.
«Auntie Tina, can we play in your garden?» the neighbors grandkids would ask.
«Of course, loves. Just mind the plants.»
One morning, Tina discovered something odd. Several blueberry bushes stood nearly bare. Instead of ripe berries, only unripe green ones remained.
«Peter, come here!» she called.
«Whats the matter?»
«Look at the blueberries. Where are they?»
He inspected the bushes closely. «Thats odd. They were loaded yesterday.»
«Maybe birds got them?»
«Birds peck one at a time. This looks like someone picked them clean.»
Tina checked the blackberry bushestheyd been stripped too, even the unripe ones.
«Peter, the blackberries are gone as well!»
«Cant be!»
But it was true. Overnight, bushes that had been full were now bare.
That evening, Tina kept watch from the garden bench, pretending to read but keeping an eye out. Within an hour, she spotted the neighbors grandchildren squeezing through a gap in the fence. All five marched straight to the blueberry bushes.
«Look how blue these ones are!» the youngest cheered.
«Lets take them all,» the eldest suggested.
They set to work, methodically stripping the bushes, stuffing berries into their pockets and a carrier bag.
Tina stepped forward. «What do you think youre doing?»
The children froze. The older ones tried hiding the bag.
«We were just tasting a few,» thirteen-year-old Mikey mumbled.
«A few? Youve taken the lot!»
«Auntie Tina, can we have some more?» four-year-old Ellie asked. «Theyre so yummy!»
«No. These are our berries. We grew them.»
The children slunk back through the fence. Tina marched straight to Zaras house. She sat on the porch, unfazed.
«Zara, we need to talk.»
«Go on.»
«Your grandkids have picked every last blueberry!»
Zara shrugged. «So what? Theyre only kids.»
«So what? Theyve wrecked my harvest!»
«Tina, dont get your knickers in a twist. Theyre just berries.»
Tina was stunned. «Just berries? Ive spent five years growing these! Watering, fertilizing»
«Well, grow some more. No need to fuss.»
«Zara, you could at least apologize!»
«Apologize for what? Kids will be kids. What do you expect?»
The conversation went nowhere. Zara clearly saw nothing wrong with her grandchildrens behavior.
The next day, Tina found the grapevines stripped toograpes that werent due to ripen till late August.
«Zara!» she shouted over the fence.
«What now?»
«Your grandkids have taken all the grapes!»
«Whats the fuss? Probably sour anyway.»
«Of course theyre sour! Theyre not ripe! Theyve picked nearly every bunch!»
«Well, they tried them and left them. Kids are curious.»
Tina felt her temper rising. «Zara, your kids are destroying my garden!»
«Dont be dramatic. Youve got plenty.»
«Whats that got to do with it? Ive spent years tending these plants!»
«Then keep tending them.»
Zara slammed her door.
That evening, Tina told Peter about the exchange.
«Can you believe it? She wouldnt even apologize! Just said, Kids will be kids.»
«What did you expect?» Peter sighed. «Easier for her to dismiss it than teach them manners.»
«But its stealing!»
«Tina, dont get worked up. Theyre just kids.»
«The oldest is thirteen! He should know better!»
Peter sighed again. He didnt want a feud over fruit.
Days later, even the gooseberries were gone.
«Thats it. Ive had enough,» Tina said firmly.
She stormed over to Zaras, where she was watering her flowers.
«Now theyve taken the gooseberries!»
«What gooseberries?»
«Mine! Your grandkids climbed the fence again!»
«Tina, youre overreacting. They just picked a few.»
«They didnt pick a fewthey took the lot! My whole harvest is gone!»
«Stop blaming the kids! Its your own fault!»
Tina gaped. «How is it my fault?»
«You let them run wild in your garden! Now they think everythings fair game!»
«I was being kind! Thought they could play together!»
«Well, youve got your answer!»
Zara snatched up her watering can. «And if you didnt want them taking things, you shouldve built a taller fence!»
Tina returned home, upset. She sat on the bench and cried. Years of work, her harvestgone.
«Tina, dont cry,» Peter soothed. «Therell be more berries next year.»
«Its not about the berries! Its that she wont even say sorry! Shes impossible!»
«What can you do? You know what shes like.»
True, Zara had a reputation in the village for being difficult. But until now, theyd gotten along.
«Peter, lets raise the fence.»
«We could. But itll cost a bit.»
«What choice do we have? Otherwise, theyll ruin everything.»
The next day, Peter got to work on a taller fence. He brought in timber, mesh, and posts, laboring from dawn till dusk.
Zara watched from her yard, sneering. «How stingy! Fencing off kids!»
Tina ignored her, lips pressed tight.
The grandkids loitered by the fence, hunting for gaps. But Peter sealed every possible entry.
«Auntie Tina, whyd you build the fence?» little Ellie asked.
«To keep the berries safe.»
«Can we still come play?»
«No. Not anymore.»
The fence worked, but relations with the neighbors soured completely. Zara turned away when they passed, and the children stopped visiting.
«Stingy old bat!» theyd yell over the fence. «Mean old witch!»
Tina tried to ignore it, but her heart ached. Once, the garden had echoed with laughter. Now, silence.
Meanwhile, Zara spun her version to the other villagers.
«Can you believe how tight-fisted they are? Wont even let the kids have a few berries! Built a ruddy great fence!»
«Did they eat much?» neighbors asked.
«Hardly any! Shes carrying on like theyve robbed a bank!»
Zaras tale spread. Whod believe kids could strip an entire garden?
Gradually, the village turned against Tinashe was the stingy one, while Zara was the long-suffering granny raising five grandchildren alone.
By summers end, things worsened. Barred from the garden, the kids found other ways to annoy. A football kicked over the fence. Litter tossed into the vegetable patch. One morning, Tina found cigarette butts and sweet wrappers scattered among her crops.
«Zara, control your grandchildren!»
«Whatve they done now?»
«Theyve thrown rubbish in my garden!»
«How dyou know it was them? Mightve been the wind.»
The mischief continuedwater sprayed over the fence, stones lobbed at windows. Tina realized Zara wasnt just allowing itshe was encouraging it.
«Peter, should we call the police?»
«Tina, dont be daft! Over kids pranks?»
«But theyre vandalizing!»
«Just bear with it. Summers nearly overtheyll be gone soon.»
True enough, by late August, the noisy bunch returned to the city.
Sitting in the quiet garden, Tina dreaded next summer. Zara would bring the grandkids back. Then what? More tension, more name-calling? The kids already saw her as the wicked witch, and Zara wouldnt correct them.
The garden no longer felt like a place of joyjust a fortress, where she had to guard not just her fruit, but her peace.
What would you do in her shoes? Any advice for Tina? Drop your thoughts below.
