Challenge
Today we are burying (fill in the blank) for the third time.
Write a story (or poem) that starts with this sentence.
Sweating In the Noon Day Sun
Today we are burying garlic
for the Third time—
It's a tradition now to take up
these heirloom bulbs,
and split them into singular cloves
We press them well—
an inch or so below the surface;
Nothing's easier,
that's what the old country farmers say
—to grow than this—
but we just don't find it to be so
ever since Count
Dracula came three season's ago.
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3
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