I worked in my garden today. It was cold, a typical fall day that was somehow appropriate to my autumnal, melancholy mood. It is still hard for me to think of it as "my" garden. This was always Steve's province and my only involvement was to pick some flowers, or some vegetables from the back garden. Even this Steve usually did, beaming with pride as he came into the kitchen bearing a basketful of golden corncobs, fat cucumbers or scarlet, juicy tomatoes.
Toby and Michael