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The Enchanted Greenhouse

Book by Sarah Beth Durst · 22 quotes · Romantasy, Fantasy, Belonging Place

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The Enchanted Greenhouse Quotes

“Dear Family, she wrote. She paused again. "Tell them you're well," Yarrow advised. She wrote that. And then once those first words were there, she kept writing. She told them about when she first came to Alyssium, full of hope and fear. She told them about the library, how proud she'd been to get the job and how disappointed when it turned out to not be what she'd imagined it would be. She told them about how much she missed home, how much she missed them, and why she hadn't returned--- because she wanted to find a place where she belonged and had purpose, and she knew it wasn't Eano, as much as she loved them. But it wasn't Alyssium either. As it turned out, it was Belde. This place. With this man. She smiled as she wrote about Yarrow and her life here. I found a place I want to be and a future I want to have. I'm happy, and I hope you are too. Please write back. I miss you. Love, Your Terlu”

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“She held the letters to her chest as if she could absorb them straight into her heart. She'd lost six years as a statue, but she wouldn't lose any more. Her family still cared. They weren't angry, and they missed her. Maybe they didn't fully understand, but they cared. If they came to visit... When they came to visit, she corrected herself, she'd try to explain. She'd left Eano to find a place where she had a purpose. It had just taken her longer than she'd thought it would to find it. It would be all right. I have a niece. And her father knew she'd find happiness.”

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“She'd grown up on a sun-drenched island called Eano, where you were in far more danger of sunburn than frostbite. She used to walk barefoot through the sand and feel it tickle her toes on her way to her cousins' house, and she'd swim every sunset in the sun-warmed water before her parents called her in for dinner. At the height of summer, you could cook mussels and clams by leaving them out on the rocks, and you had to drink fruit juice to stay hydrated or you'd risk the wrath of the cluster of grandfathers who'd hand out pitchers of guava and watery sweet-berry juice at every street corner. Remembering, Terlu could almost taste the hint of sweet-berry. It was the flavor of the summer solstice, when the whole island would be decked out in flowers and smell like chocolate and cinnamon and citrus as every baker and aspiring baker would compete to create the most delectable pastries for the Summer Feast...”

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“Everyone who could cook had cooked: Carrots that tasted like candy. Asparagus coated in a creamy yellow sauce. Potatoes prepared six different ways--- fried, roasted, baked, twice-baked, and cooked with cheese and with cream. Fish flavored with herbs that Terlu couldn't even name but tasted beyond delicious. A few dishes weren't her favorite, like the mussels in butter that Yarrow loved but reminded Terlu too much of slugs, but she loved the dish with squash cut into noodles mixed in a nut-flavored sauce, as well as a sweet carrot bread made by one of the uncles. And Yarrow had prepared her favorite, the layered zucchini, squash, and tomato dish he'd perfected. They ate, they talked, they laughed, they sang, they told stories, and they danced. Above the greenhouse, snow fell lightly as the shortest day of the year dipped toward nightfall. When desserts were brought out, everyone oohed and ahhed. Yarrow's sugar glass with flavored roses was proclaimed the star, but there were also berry pies (Terlu contributed a blueberry pie) and cakes and cobblers and an amazing peach tart (Yarrow's grandfather's recipe). And of course, chocolate-covered oranges.”

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“She'd never imagined any of this--- this island, the greenhouses, the purpose she'd found in translating the late sorcerer's spells, the new community they were building, the plants and the dragons, the winged cat, and Yarrow. All of it. She hadn't even known this life was out there to dream about. Now, though, it was the life she wanted. "I'm home," Terlu told him. Drawing her closer, he kissed her, and she kissed him back. Above them, the snow fell gently on the greenhouse, while inside and all around them, the flowers bloomed.”

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“It's going to be fun," Terlu said. He snorted, but then he smiled and held out the half-finished icing rose. "Taste?" "You're supposed to be making them for the feast. I can't---" He popped it in her mouth. It melted and flavor burst from it. She'd expected pure sugar, but what she tasted was strawberries and vanilla--- it was a bite of spring. "Oh! How did you do that?" "Each color rose is going to have a different flavor." "You're brilliant." He blushed. "I'm glad you like it. I'm going to put them all over the sugar glass, to symbolize the cracks that the plants healed." "Sounds beautiful.”

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“At the Great Library of Alyssum, all the librarians' meals were prepared by unseen cooks in a kitchen on a level devoid of books. Several of their cooks were high-caliber chefs, with a pedigree that included many noble houses and often even the imperial palace. They were expected to provide meals for the sorcerers who consulted the library, and so for that reason, they often turned out perfectly roasted meats, delicately spiced pastries, and mouthwatering desserts with custards that looked like they were made of molten gold. Terlu had often ordered just desserts for her meals, especially near the end, when she felt she needed more and more comfort food. Once, she'd gotten an exquisite puff pastry swan, a leftover from an imperial party that had been held in one of the grander rooms of the library. Her fondness for sweets was part of why a lover had once described her as "pleasantly huggable," a description she was perfectly fine with if it meant she'd gotten to eat pastry swans. She'd also had some amazing meals on her home island of Eano: a coconut curry made by one of her aunts that had been known to reduce grown mean and women to tears, a duck roasted over a fire pit after marinating in a special secret sauce, and dragonfruit jelly on a hot, buttery donut... But Terlu thought she had never tasted anything as good as this soup. Did he make this? It had herbs she had no name for, but they made her feel as if she were being hugged. It was warm and nutty, and the vegetables--- which she also couldn't identify--- were sometimes sweet and sometimes tart and always perfect. The broth warmed her throat, straight down to her stomach, and she felt its warmth spread to the rest of her.”

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“They were chocolate-covered orange slices, each slice perfect and plump as a jewel, with smooth-as-silk chocolate encasing half of them. She felt a lump in her throat. She hadn't known he'd been listening when she talked about oranges weeks ago. He'd barely liked her then. In fact, she was certain he hadn't. All of a sudden, it felt like her family was here with her, even though they hadn't yet written back to the letter she'd sent--- it had been picked up by a passing sailor weeks ago, but no boat had returned with a response. Still, here was a bit of home. Terlu blinked quickly. "You don't like them?" he said, concerned. "I know you said you remembered candied oranges from your Winter Feast, but then I thought with your story about the orange tree..." "It's perfect," she said. "You're perfect.”

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“It's a new spellbook that's circulating, written for ordinary people. Supposed to have a lot to do with plants and gardens and such, and since, you know, the whole greenhouse thing... I thought it could be useful. Found it in an adorable jam shop, and I couldn't say no." "The laws have changed that much?" Terlu gawked at the book. It was titled simply Spells from Caltrey. She wasn't sure where Caltrey was--- it wasn't an island name that she recognized. "Yep," Marin said. This was proof, here in her hands. A spellbook for an ordinary person. "Brand-new world out there. A second chance for a whole lot of people, not just you.”

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“You could only have a relationship of any kind, be it family or friends or lovers, if both people were willing to reach toward each other. It wasn't, as some said, hard work in the sense of being unpleasant or tedious or painful--- that was a myth perpetuated by people with a vested interest in telling you to stay in a terrible relationship--- but it did require effort. You had to try.”

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“False moonlight bathed the greenhouse in a pale blue light. At the peak of the cupola, an imitation moon was cradled in a web of glittering strands. Swirls of sparkling cloud drifted through on a breath of impossible wind. The flowers were a deep blue, black, and gray--- the colors of a garden at night. Even their leaves were a dark gray. Starlike sparkles drifted up from the blossoms, as if the flowers were breathing out stardust. It smelled like jasmine.”

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“He also looked very handsome, even though there was a smear of dirt on his gold-hued cheek that she very much wanted to wipe off. She resisted the urge, though, since he was looking at her with so much confusion and alarm in his face that she thought he might flee if she tried. She knew what he was seeing when he looked at her: a short, plump, pastel-colored woman who was pretty in the same kind of harmless way that bunnies are pretty.”

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“Terlu flipped to the end to find a brief note about the authors: Kiela and Caz were the co-owners of a jam shop on the island of Caltrey. Kiela was formerly a librarian at the Great Library of Alyssium, where Caz, a sentient talking spider plant, had been her librarian assistant. She thanked her husband, Larran, as well as a list of friends. Caz thanked his partner, Meep. Yarrow wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She realized she was crying. "He's okay," Terlu said. "I did the right thing.”

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“She knelt on the walkway, and the plants bunched around her, each of them calling out their name: the philodendron was Dendy (he), the ivy was Risa (they), the orchid Amina (she), the calla lily Viria (she), the thistle Tirna (they), the fireweed Nif (he), the wax myrtle Ree (he), the prickly pear Hosha (they), the flytrap Sut (he), the morning glory Zyndia (she), the fern Mirr (they)... She committed as many names as possible to memory.”

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“She drifted through life, wanting and reaching but never having, always feeling just a little lost and just a little empty and just a little lonely. "I'm just too sensitive." Yarrow grunted. "I don't know what that means." "I'm hurt when I shouldn't be." "If you're hurt, you're hurt. It doesn't matter if anyone else thinks you don't have a good enough reason. Pain doesn't require approval.”

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