The Flowered Graveyard

She love the outdoors; it makes her calm. Especially during her stressful days. She doesn't get up to much, she's been stuck inside for a few months now. She waits patiently from Autumn through to Winter, until it's her favourite month: Spring. As soon as the warm sun touches the grass, she smiles.

She opens the back door with white fur stuck to her knees, as the fluffy pooch walks beside her cane. Timidly, she takes her first foot off the step, with her friend following closely by her side. One step, two steps, slowly but surely making her way to the checkpoint: the gate which separates where the dog poops from where the children play. Her hand touches the steel guard, releasing the gate from her grasp. The dog disappears from her side, immediately rummaging her nose through the green grass.

The garden is long but narrow in width, a stone path cutting straight down the middle. A wooden shed lies at the top left corner, and whilst missing a window from the autumn storms, it still looks in good condition. A glass table occupies the top right corner, surrounded by four chairs and a border of dead flowers sleeping in their pots.

Inhaling, she takes in the rays of the sun and the warmth of the day. Leading with her cane, she starts to hobble towards the table, taking a seat on her favourite chair. It's her favourite because that's where she can admire her previous work, as well as being in the best position to watch the ball of fluff entwined within the grass.

"Winter takes a toll on you doesn't it?" She says, looking at each pot individually, taking a moment to remember the lives that were there last summer. Some are still present, although dead branches with lifeless sprouts occupying their pots hardly count as company. "We're not too different, winter takes a toll on me too" she speaks, as she slowly rises from her chair. She leaves her cane resting upon the glass table and reaches for the shed's rusty handle. The shed is one of her favourite places, well it was when the windows were intact. She and her partner would spend hours on end watching the rain fall. Plus, it has everything that she needs to resurrect her flowery graveyard; a watering can, sheers, a rake and seeds. It also shelters the portable BBQ but she leaves that last one for her partner.

A voice can be heard from the gate as she lifts up the watering can:

"Do you need any help?"

"Could you fill up this watering can for me?" she asks, grunting as she carries the remainder of the tools.

"Sure, do you need me to help lift-?"

"Nope, that's it".

She's always like that, declining help when she needs it. You'd think a woman that can hardly walk would know not to carry heavy things. Well at least she let me fill the watering can.

The necessities were all laid out: plants, seeds, a rake, sheers, some fresh compost, and the dog on the grass. With all those things checked off, the gardening was ready to begin. With a full watering can, I return to the outdoors, taking a stance between the two gate posts. I admire her from afar as she pulls up her chair to the furthest plant, uprooting and emptying each pot at a leisurely pace. Grunting from the pain, she takes a break roughly every two minutes, however it doesn't stop her from weaving to and from each box.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

"No it's fine, thank you for the water."

"I'll put it by the table."

And off she goes again, one plant pot at a time. I must say it looks nice though, she definitely knows what she's doing. She knows what should go where: reds, oranges and yellows on the left side, blues, white and pinks on the right side. She appears content, so I return back inside.

At least two hours passed since I last checked up on her, so I make my way to observe from the gate. Instantly I notice her empty coffee mug on the table, I thought I'd surprise her so I'll make her another. She does drink a lot of coffee, I'm not sure how she ever gets to sleep.

As I pick up the mug, I am taken aback by my surroundings, all the plants seemed to be in place and wow, they look beautiful. Some newly sprouted, some pre-brought, either way I can't wait to see what they'd be like in the Summer. I don't even think she realises I'm here, but I notice that she's covered in compost. It's even managed to get into her hair, I'm not sure how, it's tied up and it's not that long, I guess we'll have to wash it tonight. I laugh to myself as I take her mug and head inside.

"There we go, all tucked in", she says as she smooths down the compost around the last flower. "It'll be Summer soon and everything will be better".

I return with her freshly brewed coffee, she looks at me and smiles as the pooch hurriedly trots to my side. I'd grab her ball and play, but I'm not lying when I say she'll chase after it once then lie down like she's 30. She's the most laziest dog I've ever known, especially for a young husky.

I place the mug onto the table and turn to peep my head into the shed. I quietly ask if she's okay but she doesn't reply, she just turns to show me what's in her hand. I bend over to have a look, meeting her eyes shortly after. It was the tulips I bought back from Amsterdam... she's been wanting tulips for so long, I thought it'd be the perfect get well soon gift. We briefly smile at each other as she brushes past me to plant the seeds in the pot closest to the centre.

"I think they'll fit perfectly here" I say to her, the smile not leaving my face. She knows exactly where things should go. "It really does look lovely, are you happy with them, Mom?"

"I really am."