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The Seed of an Idea

The Mogford Prize 2020 Entry The man finished work for the day and ducked out of the shed, weaving his fingers together as he reached his arms over his head, stretching out the sedentary hunch of the day. A thin ripple of cloud on the horizon was dappled with pewter bruises and nestled snugly under an otherwise cerulean sky as he ambled through the orchard that early evening in August. The ordered columns of apple, plum and cherry trees were progressing well, but the latter were immature - their tart fruit yet to offer a return on his time invested. Biennial bearing meant flowering only occurred every other year, so this season his cherry trees lacked the beauty for which he’d originally adm

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