The Gardener

He spent the golden years in his garden growing vegetables like weeds. With a Midas-like touch, instead of gold, everything turned green. Spring, summer and autumn, something about growing brought him great joy. Perhaps he saw in the garden's changing seasons a semblance of life others did not: Childhood as spring when like young shoots he first grew, Work and family as summer when his crop began to yield, Retirement as autumn when the fruits of his labour were consumed. And winter... well winter was his time to rest and reflect on his crop. He died in the winter of his being, content with his harvest.