Watermelon Summer Read Online Free Page A

out another book, and another, and used
    composition paper fell out of each one, answering my question. 
    The mysterious note-writer had simply covered all possible bases,
    informing me about where I might choose to begin my studies of
    animal behavior ( King Solomon's
     Ring was recommended) or Appalachian history (here, a
    library card in my name fell out of the encyclopedia, along with a
    hand-drawn map of the three miles between Greensun and town).
     
    After another hour of note-finding, I became
    convinced that the mysterious writer was my elusive bio-dad. 
    One of the few facts my mother had let slip about my biological
    father was that, like her, he was an English major and loved to
    read.  And, apparently, to pen enigmatic notes about apple
    sauce.
     
    A bit hurt that my father had chosen to greet me
    with the written, instead of spoken, word, I decided to get out of
    the house and see what the rest of Greensun looked like. 
    Surely, my bio-dad wouldn't have left notes in the trees, right?  I
    grabbed the half-bushel basket (yes, I'm far too easily swayed by
    parental instructions) and let Lucy lead me into the woods
    downstream.
     
     

     
    Even though I grew up in a large town next door
    to a much-larger city, Mom had taken a little bit of Greensun's
    ways across the country with her.  She asked neighbors if she could
    harvest the unused fruits from street-side apple trees, then picked from wild
    blackberry and raspberry bushes along the side of the road.  My
    brother was more likely to refuse to be involved in these shenanagins, especially as we'd gotten older, but I'd found it
    inspiring (and delicious) that food grew wild in Seattle's
    outskirts.
     
    When Mom was too busy to go wildcrafting with me,
    I often walked half a mile to a wooded park, braided my hair, and
    pretended to be an Indian.  On the one occasion when my
    more-polished cousins came to visit from Massachusetts, I showed
    them how to make Robin Hood-style long bows out of willow branches,
    then laughed at my relatives for worrying over getting their clothes
    dirty.  And when my mother took me along to visit her friend's
    farm, I fell in the creek accidentally-on-purpose, caught minnows in
    a five-gallon bucket, and brought the tiny fish home to nourish our
    cat.
     
    Which is all a long way of explaining that, though I
wasn't a farm girl, I felt right at home at Greensun.  More
recently, A.P. Biology and scholarship
    applications had taken over my whimsical relationship with the
    outdoors, but the farm called to my younger self.  And since I
had nothing
    pressing on my agenda for the next 29 days, I smiled and gave in to
    caprice.  A little waterfall with a pool below it tempted me to
    skinny dip instead of following one note's directions about washing
    up.  ("Rain barrels or creek water perfect for bathing. 
    Soap on sink, washtub in shed.  Do NOT use soap in
    creek.")  I floated in the water with the sun warming my face
    and minnows nibbling sweat off my skin, until Lucy returned from
    chasing a squirrel and splashed me out of the creek and back into my
    clothes.
     
    By now, my stomach was growling, and I debated
    whether I should head back to the house or continue on with my expedition.  But
    "June apples should be ripe on the tree down the holler...."  I
    turned away from the house and back to the unknown.
     
     
     

    Half a bushel of June apples feels pretty heavy
    after a while, so I shifted the container up onto my shoulder as Lucy
    and I retraced our steps toward what already felt like home. 
    My canine companion was wandering across the hillside above me, as
    usual, so I was alone when I stepped out of the trees...and heard
    classical music blaring from the farmhouse where I'd left my wallet,
    my laptop, and every other belonging I had on this coast.
     
    Looking into the sun, I could make out a slender
    figure sitting on a chair in the yard.  And just like that,