The Garden

Part of a parterre in an English garden. Photo...

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The garden grew wild and unhampered. Chrysanthemums bloomed with vibrant colors. They reached for the sky and drank sunlight as though it existed for them alone. The fragrance filled the air with the sweet scent of hope. To look upon the garden filled passersby with a joy they did not quite understand. But without a gardener there is little hope that the flowers will survive. This garden was no different. One day weeds began to make their way among the flowers, choking off their life. The colors began to fade. The flowers bent their heads towards the ground. Instead of the scent of hope there was only the stench of decay and loss. Years later, when the garden was nearly dead, a new gardener arrived. Mums are a hearty flower, but in this garden few were left. Still the gardener went to work. She plucked the weeds. She fertilized the soil. She tended to the flowers that were left and planted new seeds. In time the garden began to show signs of life. The old flowers regained their color. New ones poked their heads through the soil reaching for the sky. The scent of hope had returned. The passersby regained their sense of wonder at seeing such a beautiful place. Still the gardener could not stay. Not in such a small garden. She had other gardens to tend. Larger, more beautiful gardens she had tended for years. She gave this small patch the time she could and then moved on. In a short time the weeds began to return. The garden would die without a gardener. I could not watch that happen again. From the comfort of my window I had watched her as she worked her magic on the flowers. I was not a gardener, but I would take what I had learned from her and do what I could.
The flowers are not nearly as bright under my care. The air has lost its scent of hope but the stench of death has not returned. It is a daily battle with the weeds. I pluck one only to find two to replace it. Still, I fight, for the garden is worth saving. Perhaps one day the gardener will return and together we will make the flowers smile again.


One thought on “The Garden

  1. I love the sense of hope and continuation behind the story, I also appreciate how the narrator takes things into their own hands to try to save the “garden” and in doing so, restores hope with in themself….

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