Jane stretched her weary legs out on the lounger after scattering seeds in the freshly turned over soil. Well composted with vegetable and fruit peelings, eggshells, and teabags, it exuded a pungent odor.
She recalled last summer when the cosmos, irises, zinnias and nasturtiums had covered the ground in a mass of color, pink, magenta, white, orange, red, and yellow.
All she needed was someone to pat her on the head, place a freshly ground cup of coffee in her hands and say, “You’ve done your best”. Walter had also been scattered amongst the seeds. She would miss him this Christmas.