The Marbles

A good find

Mr. Reed closed the gate behind him and surveyed his small backyard garden one last time before the New Year. Frost highlighted the empty rows where tomatoes and beans had grown tall all summer. At 82, he moved slower now, but he still knelt, pulled on thick gloves, and began turning the soil for spring.

His 10-year-old neighbor, Sophie, watched from her side of the fence. She spent most afternoons there, sketching birds or reading under the maple between the two properties.

“Mr. Reed,” she said, “Why are you digging when everything’s frozen?”

He paused, leaned on his spade, and wiped his forehead.

“Soil needs to breathe, Sophie. Turning it now lets the frost break up the clumps. Come spring, it’ll be ready.”

Sophie climbed the fence and jumped down beside him. She wore a bright blue coat and carried a small notebook.

“May I help?”

Mr. Reed handed her a hand trowel.

“Careful. The ground’s hard.”

They worked in rhythm. Sophie dug neat holes along the edge while Mr. Reed poked the richer middle beds. A robin landed nearby, cocked its head, then flew off.

After an hour, Sophie sat back on her heels.

“I found something.”

Sophie held up a smooth, round object the size of a marble. It was a dark green marble.

Mr. Reed took it and held it up to the sun.

“Hmm, an old glass marble. Kids played with these a hundred years ago. Must’ve washed in from somewhere up the hill.”

Sophie’s eyes widened.

“A real antique?”

“I don’t know about that, Sophie, but it’s really old, anyway.” He smiled. “Finders keepers. Here you go.”

She tucked it into her pocket, then resumed digging. Ten minutes later she unearthed another: pale blue this time, then a clear one swirled with white and black.

Mr. Reed chuckled. “You’re hitting the mother lode.”

By the time the sun lowered, Sophie had collected seven marbles, each different, all gleaming after a quick wipe on her sleeve. She lined them up on the fence rail.

Mr. Reed studied the row, then the patch where she’d dug. His brow furrowed.

“Sophie,” he said, “those holes you made are exactly where I planned to plant my carrots next year.”

Sophie looked at the neat row of empty circles, then at the marbles in her hand. Her face fell.

“I ruined your garden.”

Mr. Reed picked up the green marble, held it to the light again.

“Carrots like loose soil. You’ve already done half the work. And look...”

He pointed to the holes. “They’re spaced just right, like you measured.”

Sophie blinked. “But I didn’t measure.”

“You did it by eye. Good eye, too.”

He handed the marbles back.

“Keep them. Payment for excellent garden preparation.”

Sophie grinned and said, “Really?”

“Really. But next Spring, you come help plant the real seeds. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“And if I find any more marbles when I’m digging, I know just the person who might want a few more.”

“Thank you, Mr. Reed.”

She hopped the fence homeward, marbles clinking in her pocket.

Mr. Reed watched her go, then gazed at the tidy row of holes waiting under the frost. He shook his head, smiling, knowing that a quick trip to the store to buy a small bag of marbles was now on his to-do list today.