The weakness we left behind
seems to be getting stronger
Along with Flowerbirth, with the sun, with the return of warmth to the world, came certain obligations. The first — attending to the living — always weighed most heavily on him. He had done his penance in the settlement, found his parents still alive, learned what news there was to learn. That was the hard part. He was never certain which was worse: the missing, or those still lingering behind. He was done with both for the moment, at least. He had returned home with no intention of leaving again, and his favorite part of Flowerbirth awaited him.
Throughout most of the year, Nathaniel kept an astonishing number of potted plants inside his house. Most of them purely because he enjoyed their company. Some, though, were temporary residents. These, small sprouts clustered together in trays, now waited on the porch. They were useful plants: potatoes and tomatoes and squash and leafy greens. Nathaniel never tilled enough soil to call his property a real farm — he earned his bread and butter in the woods behind the house, for the most part — but he kept a garden through the good weather. Something about turning over the earth and watching the plants come up was heartening. And he had no need to trade for someone else's vegetables when he had his own.
A sunny morning found him out to one side of the house, a shovel in hand, turning over the earth and carefully shuttling the seedlings from their temporary home on the porch to new, permanent homes in the space he called his garden.
Throughout most of the year, Nathaniel kept an astonishing number of potted plants inside his house. Most of them purely because he enjoyed their company. Some, though, were temporary residents. These, small sprouts clustered together in trays, now waited on the porch. They were useful plants: potatoes and tomatoes and squash and leafy greens. Nathaniel never tilled enough soil to call his property a real farm — he earned his bread and butter in the woods behind the house, for the most part — but he kept a garden through the good weather. Something about turning over the earth and watching the plants come up was heartening. And he had no need to trade for someone else's vegetables when he had his own.
A sunny morning found him out to one side of the house, a shovel in hand, turning over the earth and carefully shuttling the seedlings from their temporary home on the porch to new, permanent homes in the space he called his garden.
