—Those two write crooked using perfectly straight lines, Gregorius.

—It is a gift too, Master.

—I’m not sure whether it’s a gift or a test.

—Perhaps a little of both.

—Lord.

—I asked You for humility, charity, and obedience.

—I never asked You for a sense of humor.

—Sister Piety of the Absurd Sorrows, I’ve always thought that shiny eggplants…

—Oh, Sister Potato of Lourdes Foo-Foo, don’t get me started…

And Mother Patience, closing her eyes:

—No, my child.

—I wasn’t asking you.

I have long since given up trying to understand the ways of Providence.

I’d be perfectly satisfied with understanding those two little troublemakers.

I consider that highly unlikely.

— Aurelius, Chronicler of The Attic

Sister Potato of Lourdes Foo-Foo

For prayer requests, sweet potato recipes, or business collaborations:

https://www.instagram.com/sorpatatadelurdes

Products incompatible with contemplative life or fertilizers of questionable origin will not be promoted.

—Lord.

—Grant me humility.

—Grant me patience.

—Grant me charity.

—But above all, if it be Your will, may this year’s garden once again produce those wonderfully… harmonious eggplants.

From the back pew, Mother Patience opens one eye.

—Lord.

—Please disregard that last paragraph.

Sister Piety of the Absurd Sorrows

—Lord.

—I am not worthy of Your blessings.

—But if, in Your infinite mercy, You could grant us a fine harvest of well-proportioned turnips…

—…I promise I won’t bring it up again.

(Pause.)

—At least until Advent.

And Mother Superior Sister Patience, watching them from a distance:

—Lord.

—Don’t pay them too much attention.

—You know they’re good souls.

—But please… use a little discretion.

Sister Chastity

—Lord.

—I am not worthy to understand all Your mysteries.

—Nor those of turnips.

—But I see that Sister Potato of Lourdes Parruset and Sister Piety of the Absurd Sorrows laugh a great deal while tending the garden.

—And I believe that joy must also be one of Your gifts.

—Grant us an abundant harvest.

—Humble turnips.

—But well proportioned.

—And, if it is Your will, may they be firm, healthy, and kind at heart.

—May no one look down on them because of their size.

—For You love all Your creatures.

—Even the humblest ones.

(Pause.)

—And if my sisters start laughing again…

—Help me understand the joke.

—Because I still haven’t quite seen it.

—But I know it’s there.

—Amen.

His Excellency Cassanovus NAPPIUS

Last Lord of Prymere.

A gentleman of impeccable manners, limited means, and an unmistakable profile.

The proud guardian of a castle that is gracefully falling apart.

A tireless defender of family traditions.

And the owner of the most distinguished nose in Empordà.

According to legend, his profile served as a sundial for centuries.

The family has never denied the claim.

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