Ben was walking
past the little garden at the corner of Fifth and Camden, looking at a row of
tall purple flowers that looked like mouths, when someone popped up from behind
them.
“Beardsmouth!”
he said. He was a tan, wiry guy with dirty clothes.
Ben must have
looked confused.
“It’s
drought-resistant,” the man said. “A hardy plant.”
“Did you plant
it?”
The man waved
his hand to show the entire garden. “I planted all these.” It was a tiny
garden, living-room-sized, the kind that filled up a bit of unused space
between the buildings and the street. There was an apartment building behind
it, old with small, unused balconies.
“Do you live
here?” Ben asked.
The man shook
his head. “No, I just do these gardens.
I have them all over the city.”
“That’s nice,”
Ben said. “Thanks for doing that.”
Ben felt good
about thanking the guy. It was a pretty garden for its size, and it was good to
be appreciative of people who made pretty things and shared them for free.
“Do you want a
tour?” the guy said.
“Of the garden?”
It was pretty small for a tour. Ten steps and it would be over.
“Of all the
gardens,” the guy said. “There’s fifteen of them.”
Ben started to
say thank you, but no, I don’t have time to go look at fifteen gardens. But
then he remembered that he actually did have time. He had nothing left to do
today but walk and sit.
The fifteen
gardens were only in three different neighborhoods, so it didn’t take much
longer than Ben’s normal walk to see them all. The guy, who was named Sammy,
told him about all the plants. There were lavender bushes and cacti and
low-growing succulents. Ben especially liked the shaggy, flowerless grasses and
the sage with the small purple blossoms.
“If you come tomorrow,” Sammy said, “you can help with the
watering.”
Helping with the watering sounded like something, like
something with a goal, an activity. Ben was trying not to have activities. But
it wasn’t too much more of an activity than walking, and anyway it was good to
help plants grow.
“Okay, I’ll probably come,” Ben said.
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