Chapter 2

Adding rose petals to your bath will leave you feeling renewed and refreshed. Rose petals can be added to witch bags for prophetic dreams.

The trees that I swear I saw fall over a couple minutes ago, are standing tall. I must be going crazy.

I close my eyes to get a sense of the trees down below and everything feels normal. I can even feel my mom walking in the garden behind our office and she seems fine.

I start to jog back to my cottage listening to the rocks and debris crunch under my feet with each step, trying to sense anything that might be off.

I am intrigued by the man I just met and a small part of me hopes I see him again.

I have a small private cottage on the far end of our acreage. My cabin is beautiful and what makes it more special is my dad and I built it together before he died.

The cabin is made from mature cherry wood from the trees on our property, I grew them myself. I guess in a way I grew my house. There is a wraparound porch that’s painted purple, my favourite colour. Behind my cottage I have a small tool shed. In my front yard, I have a fair-sized garden and a pond with goldfish swimming around.

The walls of the cottage are covered in long bright golden Pothos vines. They are green and yellow with small thorns.

The plants have always wanted to be close to me. I planted these vines when I was a little girl, and they have grown with me my whole life. I brought them with me when I moved up here and I planted them in a garden bed beside my cottage.

The vines are enchanted to keep me safe. If an unwanted person tries to come in my cottage the vines will create an unbreakable barrier over my entire home, preventing anyone from entering.

I open the door and walk into the living room; it is a simple room. I have a plant wall with a large purple heart vine growing across my ceiling, a bookshelf filled with books, a small tv and a couch.

I grab the phone and call the main office – no answer. Great.

My kitchen is walk off from the living room and there is a small table in the corner with a crystal chandelier overhead. I head down the short hall to my bedroom.

I skip showering and get dressed. I put on a yellow sundress, since it’s supposed to be a warm day. I twirl my curls into a clip and head back out the door.

Even though the main house is on the same property it is still far enough away for me to drive. I get into my small Ford Focus and make the short drive over.

We live about 40 kilometres outside of a small town called Meaford. Meaford is nothing special It’s a very a quiet tourist town in Ontario, near Lake Huron.

Our orchard is a popular attraction in the area; we often host tours for schools, weddings, and wine tastings.

In the last 5 years we have added a large bakery on site, and it’s become a popular tourist attraction, renowned for its delicious jams and pastries.

We have been in business for over 250 years. My family settled here from Ireland. We don’t know much about my family history before they got here by boat.

The property spans over 200 acres, most of it is dense with trees and rocks.

On the opposite side of the orchard is where the bakery with the attached winery is located. Next to it is our head office.

On the west side of the orchard lies our family manor, which has housed generations of our family. The manor, built around the mid-1800s by our ancestors from the trees on our property. The manor runs along the shore of Lake Huron. Back in the day our family was quite large, but it has become small over the years.

To call the manor enormous would be an understatement, with over 10 bedrooms, 4 dens, and two kitchens and a large sunroom that overlooks the lake, it is by far the biggest house in the area.

I finally arrive at the head office on the property. The building has a small apartment on top where my mother lives since my father died.

We offer a large assortment of fruits, including apples, pears, plums, cherries, oranges, and lemons—given the cold and harsh winters here in Ontario, we shouldn’t be able to grow oranges or lemons.

In our fields, we grow the sweetest strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, and blueberry.

Some of our trees are record breaking in size, bigger than houses.

Throughout the years this has raised many questions with arborists and other farmers. The locals have been wondering for decades what makes our trees grow so big and tall. Not to mention what makes our fruit taste the sweetest.

I will admit we are guilty of keeping a small secret.

What is this secret?

Well, the secret is my family. We come from a lengthy line of pure Magical blood and we are all witches.

When my family settled here, they began planting the trees and our magical essence flows through their roots.

Now it is my mom and I who run the place, with the help of my cousin and best of friend, Evee. She works at the bakery and the winery.

My mom's brother, Jim and his son Graham are around occasionally, and they usually come down to help during harvest season, but they are usually gone exploring or hunting rare creatures.

Each of us have a unique gift.

My name is Paige McDougall, and I turned twenty-three last September. I have a slim muscular build from all the digging and gardening over the years. I am not very tall, about 5.5. I have brown hair and hazel eyes. My curly hair that sits right below my shoulders blows gently in the wind.

I bet you are wondering what my power might be?

Well, I have one of the most crucial powers for the success of our orchard. My power is called chlorokinesis, which is the ability to control and manipulate all vegetation.

It a powerful gift and there are few limitations. I can move trees and plants with my mind. I can also manipulate them to grow exceptionally large very quickly. I can turn a seedling into a full-grown fruit bearing tree in minutes. I can also sense the trees and roots speaking to each other.

There has always been someone in my family with the gift of chlorokinesis which is the reason our orchard is so successful. In fact, the first trees planted on this property were by an ancestor with the same gift as me. We have a tall oak in the middle of our property that is said to be the first tree ever planted according to our records.

“Oh, there you are” my mother said coming out of the stock room. “I see someone is taking her sweet time getting started today.”

She doesn’t mention the shaking and rumbling.

I rolled my eyes ignoring her comment, even though we are self-employed she hates it when I am late. I hear my mother's voice in my head “punctuality is the soul of a good business.”

“Better late than never” I joke but she’s not impressed.

“Huh” My mother: Colleen McDougall rolls her eyes, Not only do we have completely different personalities, but we look nothing alike. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She is also taller than me.

“Did you notice anything weird happen this morning?” I asked.

“The only strange thing around here is my daughter can never seem to get to work on time.” She answered while organizing papers at the desk.