Zoe, your grandkids have stripped all my blueberry bushes! The neighbour didnt even flinch. So what? Theyre just children. So what? Theyve ruined my entire harvest! Toni, dont get so worked up over it.
Antonia Whitmore made her morning rounds of the cottage garden with a steaming cup of tea in hand, inspecting the vegetable beds and admiring the fruit trees.
Her plot with her husband, Peter Whitmore, was spaciousfifteen acres. Half was dedicated to potatoes, carrots, and cabbages, while the other half boasted an orchard with 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 now she was eagerly awaiting her first proper harvest.
Nearby grew blackberry bushes, which yielded large, sweet berries every year. Along the fence, heavy clusters of grapes dangled from the vine.
Peter, look how plump the blueberries are getting! she called to her husband.
Lovely, he agreed.
In the summer, their grandchildrentwelve-year-old Oliver and ten-year-old Emilycame to stay. The children helped in the garden, picked berries, and swam in the nearby river. Antonia adored them.
Next door lived their neighbour, Zoe Parker. Her plot was smalljust six acres, with no vegetable garden, only flower beds and a modest cottage.
Every summer, Zoes five grandchildrenaged four to fourteencame to stay. A busy family, their parents worked in the city, leaving Zoe to manage the rowdy bunch all summer.
The children were friends and often ran between the two gardens. Antonia didnt mindin fact, she enjoyed their laughter.
Auntie Toni, can we play in your garden? the neighbours grandchildren would ask.
Of course, dears. Just mind the vegetable patches.
One morning, Antonia discovered something odd. Several blueberry bushes stood nearly bare. Instead of ripe berries, only unripe green ones remained.
Peter, come here! she called.
Whats wrong?
Look at the blueberries. Where are they?
Her husband stepped closer, examining the bushes.
Strange. They were full yesterday.
Could birds have eaten them?
Birds pick at them one by onethis looks like someone picked them clean.
Antonia checked the other bushes. The blackberries were nearly gone too, even the unripe ones plucked.
Peter, the blackberries have been stripped as well!
That cant be!
But it was true. Bushes that had been heavy with fruit the day before were now bare.
That evening, Antonia decided to keep watch. She sat on the bench with a book but kept an eye on the garden.
Within an hour, she spotted Zoes grandchildren squeezing through a gap in the fence. All five headed straight for the blueberry bushes.
Look, theyre so blue! the youngest cheered.
Lets take them all, the eldest suggested.
The children methodically stripped the remaining bushes, eating as they went, stuffing their pockets, and filling a plastic bag theyd brought.
Antonia stepped out from behind the tree.
What are you doing?
The children froze. The older ones tried to hide the bag.
We were just having a little taste, thirteen-year-old Jack mumbled.
A little taste? Youve picked them all!
Auntie Toni, can we have some more? four-year-old Lily asked. Theyre so yummy!
No. These are our berries. We grew them ourselves.
The children trudged back to the gap in the fence. Antonia watched them go, then marched to Zoes cottage. Zoe was lounging on the porch.
Zoe, we need to talk.
Go on.
Your grandchildren have stripped all my blueberry bushes!
Zoe didnt even blink.
So? Theyre just kids.
So? Theyve destroyed my harvest!
Toni, dont make a fuss. Theyre just berries.
Antonia was stunned.
Just berries? Ive spent five years growing these! Watering them, fertilising them!
Well, you can grow more. No need to get upset.
Zoe, cant you even apologise?
Apologise for what? Kids will be kids.
The conversation went in circles. Zoe clearly saw nothing wrong with her grandchildrens behaviour.
The next day, Antonia found the grapevines stripped toothe same clusters that werent due to ripen until late summer.
Zoe! she called over the fence.
What now?
Your grandchildren have taken all the grapes!
So? They were probably sour.
Of course theyre sour! Theyre not ripe yet! Theyve picked nearly every bunch!
Well, they tried them and left them. Kids are curious.
Antonia felt her temper rise.
Zoe, your grandchildren are ruining my garden!
Dont exaggerate! Your gardens big enough.
Thats not the point! Ive spent years growing these plants!
Then keep growing them.
Zoe disappeared inside, slamming the door.
That evening, Antonia told Peter about the argument.
Can you believe it? She wouldnt even apologise! Just said, Kids will be kids.
What did you expect? Peter shrugged. Its easier for her to brush it off than discipline them.
But this is theft!
Toni, dont overreact. Theyre just childrenthey dont know better.
The oldest is thirteen! He should know not to take what isnt his!
Peter sighed. He didnt want a feud with the neighbours over berries.
A few days later, even the gooseberries were gone.
Thats it. Ive had enough! Antonia told her husband firmly.
She marched next door again. Zoe was watering her flowers.
Now theyve taken the gooseberries too!
What gooseberries?
Mine! Your grandchildren climbed the fence again!
Toni, youre making a mountain out of a molehill. They just picked a few berriesits not the end of the world.
A few? Theyve stripped them bare! My entire harvest is gone!
Stop blaming the kids! Its your own fault!
Antonia couldnt believe her ears.
My fault?
You let them run around your garden. Of course they think everythings fair game!
I was being kind! I thought it was nice for the children to play together!
Well, now youve seen where kindness gets you.
Zoe set down her watering can and headed inside.
And if you dont want people taking your things, build a taller fence. The gaps are big enough for anyone to crawl through.
Zoe, you should teach them not to steal!
I should. But why bother? They wont listen anyway.
Antonia returned home upset. She sat on the bench and cried. Years of hard work in the garden, waiting for the harvestnow gone.
Toni, dont cry, Peter soothed. Therell be more berries next year.
Its not about the berries! Its about Zoe not even caring!
What do you expect? You know what shes like.
It was true. Zoe had a reputation in the village for being difficult. But until now, she and Antonia had gotten along fine.
Peter, lets raise the fence.
We can. But it wont be cheap.
What choice do we have? We cant let them ruin the garden.
The next day, they started building a taller fence. Peter brought in timber, wire mesh, and posts. He worked from dawn till dusk.
Zoe watched from her garden, smirking.
How greedy! Fencing off your garden from children!
Antonia didnt reply, just clenched her jaw tighter.
Zoes grandchildren loitered by the fence, searching for new ways in. But Peter blocked every gap.
Auntie Toni, why did you build the fence? little Lily asked.
To keep the berries safe, Antonia said.
Can we still come over to play?
No. Not anymore.
The fence helped, but relations with the neighbours were ruined. Zoe ignored her now, and the children stopped visiting.
Miser! they taunted through the fence. Stingy old miser!
Antonia tried to ignore them, but her heart ached. The garden, once full of childrens laughter, was now silent.
Meanwhile, Zoe spun her own version of events to the other villagers:
Can you believe how tight-fisted they are? Wont even let the kids have a berry! Built a great big fence!
Did they eat much? others asked.
Just a handful! Shes acting like they robbed a bank!
Zoes version was more convincing. Whod believe children could strip an entire garden?
Gradually, the village took Zoes side. Antonia was labelled as selfish and mean, while Zoe was seen as a saintly grandmother raising five grandchildren alone.
By summers end, things got worse. With no access to the garden, the children took revenge in other ways.
Sometimes they lobbed a ball over the fence, other times scattered litter. One morning, Antonia found cigarette butts and sweet wrappers strewn across her vegetable patch.
Zoe, control your grandchildren!
What did they do?
Theyve thrown rubbish in my garden!
How do you know its them? Couldve been the wind.
The mischief continued. They sprayed water through the fence, hurled pebbles at windows.
Antonia realised Zoe wasnt just ignoring itshe was encouraging them.
Peter, should we call the police?
Toni, dont be daft. Over kids pranks?
But theyre vandalising!
Just bear with it. Summers nearly overtheyll be gone soon.
Sure enough, by late August, the noisy bunch returned to the city.
Antonia sat on the bench in the quiet evening, dreading next summer. Zoe would bring her five grandchildren back. What then?
More tension over the fence? More pebbles, more name-calling? The children already saw her as a wicked, selfish old woman, and Zoe wouldnt correct them.
The garden no longer felt like a place of joyit was a fortress, where she had to defend not just her fruit, but her peace.
What would you do in her place? What advice would you give Antonia? Share your thoughts below.
