"Winter-MoonGarden" - читать интересную книгу автора (Winter Laurel)

She didn't bother to hunt for her nightshirt, just slid between the percale
sheets of their king-size water bed, doubled her pillow under her head, and
turned the reading lamp on. Not since The Plains of Passage had she been this
anxious to read a book -- and that one had been something of a disappointment.
Trying to tone down her anticipation, she opened the book.

The endpapers were illustrated with small likenesses of the full moon, so
incredibly detailed that she expected them to float off the page and illuminate
her bedroom. On one moon was scrawled "Property of Lenore Gilloway." The next
few pages were ordinary, title and copyright, that sort of stuff. No
introduction, but the book was dedicated to Every woman who has gazed at the
moon.

She spent a minute or so going over the table of contents. Every section looked
equally fascinating. This was not the sort of book she was going to skip around
in. She started reading the first section, titled "The Moon Garden."

The Moon Garden, it began, shall be shaped as the moon is shaped. Into the soil
shall be incorporated the blood from a woman's time. The seeds shall be planted
during the last full moon in May, at midnight. They shall be scattered from a
woman's hand. They shall be pressed into the soil by a woman's feet. No metal
shall touch the soil. There shall be no rows, nor stakes, nor labels. Such weeds
as will thrive shall be allowed to inhabit the Moon Garden. Only rain shall
water the soil. No man shall enter the Moon Garden. Only a woman shall harvest
what is put forth. Only a woman shall know these secrets.

Susan felt no desire to snicker. Before going on, she slipped out of bed and
checked the Minnesota Weather guide Calendar beside the antique secretary where
she paid bills and wrote in her journal. The full moon was in three days. And in
three days, judging from her aching breasts and volatile emotions, she would
have started her "woman's time."

Shivering from equal parts of nudity and anticipation, she jumped back in bed.
When the sloshing stopped, she turned to the recipes. The first section was
labeled "Appetizers for those without Appetite." Just what she needed, she
thought, or what her family needed. The recipes bore titles like "Tempting Tuna
Bites" and "Persuasive Pickles." Woven through normal recipe-type instructions
were phrases like pluck from the perimeter of the garden one handful; add to
other ingredients. One handful of what? she wondered. In the recipe for
"Beguilers," it asked that the woman sprinkle a pinch of soil over the finished
dish.

The other sections were equally intriguing. "Breads for Bedding and Breeding."
"Compliment Condiments." "Versatile Vegetables." "Emotional Entrees." "Desserts
They Deserve." "Other."

Some recipes were composed almost entirely of Moon Garden produce. Others had a
teaspoon or a dash or a single leaf. By the time Susan reached the section
called "Other," she was completely enchanted.