The goddess stood frozen at the kitchen window while watching the scene unfold in front of her. Standing almost sixteen feet tall, the cyclops stomped all over her garden whilst swinging his spiked club through the ground.
“Thank you, Marsha,” Demeter choked, eyes watering with tears. She felt guilty that she didn’t go out in the field to check on the bushel herself, but she was glad that she had such a nosey neighbor who had gotten a green thumb from watching her garden all these years.
Her farmhouse-style cottage, surrounded by large sunflowers and rose bushes, was her retreat. It sat next to a small stream, overlooking a meadow. It was sheltered away from the city’s bustling sounds and had a very jagged dirt road leading up to it.