The Old Gardener

The old man looked at his creation and smiled at his work. His time and effort had paid off and the garden was a sight to behold. It was simplistic yet lavish and the same time, stone walls were verdant with colourful floral growths, there were examples of topiary in many forms, flower beds were back with an array of colour, scents and styles. Insects could faintly be heard and small mammals shuffled beneath the undergrowth. Fresh garlands of flowers adorned the simple structures he had constructed, the same garlands which adorned his home when he was a boy. He had created a garden that was his and too reminded him of home, a home he knew oh so well he would properly never return to or be allowed in if he did one day make his way back there, his cousins would never allow that. They would still consider him an abomination for his difference and a slight upon the house name…

A tear descended his aging features and he lost himself to his memories for the a moment, but was quickly snapped back to reality when heard someone distantly calling his named. He tutted with disapproval, tapped his cane on the stone path and headed towards the stone door to exit the garden. He quickly took in his creation on last time before he left. This was the last time old man would set foot upon the garden he created.

 

The garden remained untouched and unvisited for many years and the verdant garden continued to live it’s own eco-system and functioned as many untended gardens do. Then one random day, the old stone door creaked open and the garden got its first visitor since the old man left. The visitor was a blonde woman who looked to be about thirty, her eyes were fully of energy and they seemed to dance as she took in the garden. Parts of it had overgrown she noted, this of course was natural for any garden left unattended for so long, but the whole place still seemed filled with life. There were some upheavals but the garden had somehow come out relatively untouched. The garlands on the buildings had regrown and the woman went over and plucked a flower off one and inhaled it, a reminder of home. A pang of guilt came over her, she’d originally grown the garden because she couldn’t go home and it had got neglected as along her many lifetimes it had seemed she was no longer an exile and no longer a black sheep of the house of Lungbarrow. But now, she was in a similar situation to before and home seemed along way away again. She shrugged her shoulders, nipped in the building and emerged with a shovel and slammed it purposefully into a patch of upturned soil. The Doctor smiled, it was time to bring a bit of home back again…

walking path way tunnel

Photo by Caio Resende on Pexels.com

Word of the Day Challenge: Verdant

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