Hope After The Storm

On one brightened afternoon in the middle of spring, a man of humbleness and humility named Neville, was in his back garden feeding and tending to his glaringly coloured, ravishing plants.

He was a kind and honourable man who lives alone and has gained a passion for gardening since his wife Raina passed away four years ago, it was therapy for the mind for Neville and a comfort for his senses, at least it gave him something to be active of and earns a few cash for gardening. He also plants his own vegetables of Potatoes, Tomatoes, Peas, Broad Beans and Turnips.

It also became a hobby for him, to acknowledge his gardening routines as a simple state of learning to grow new and other plant soiling to seed and sow throughout his garden as long as his cottage and wide as five pool tables. His range and collection of flowers included Blue Bells, Pink Cyclamens, Borages, Cherry Laurels, Foxgloves, Lupins, Snow Drops, Jasmines, Lavenders, Peonies, Ribes and Tulips. They were all secured, pitched, and scattered out neatly as Neville liked it, that way he can make sure and know which flowers need be drank of water early in the mornings and late at afternoons as he labelled them out with empty plant pots with the problem that he was colour blind.

Neville was particularly eager to plant and grow another flower to adjoint with his gaudy garden collection was of the seeds of a Marigold Flower, as it was his late wife’s favourite colour and to plant it as an honour of her in spirit, but he is yet to go out and retrieve some until his seedlings were tended to first.

One day he was on his way back home from work, until since early at dawn he noticed that the weather had changed so slightly until it evolved so drastically. The light rain turned to hail stone rain, the wind pushed from minor to slightly gustier, and the clouds dimmed from pale to dark and dense. Even the air changed heavy and forcefully as though a storm was on its way, though Neville disapproved of these conditions for the safety of his gardening more than his home, but he was unfazed of this hoping that it will settle eventually if not overnight.

He returned home from work with the seeds of Marigold, but just after a frustrating annoying tussle of trying to plant them thoroughly in his back garden with the wind and rain tackling his progress, he returned indoors removing his raincoat and placing on warm drier clothes as he sat comfortably on his armchair by the warm log fire, taking his mind of the gusty weather outdoors.

It wasn’t until Neville would be put out of his comfort zone, as he listened to the radio of a local channel to hear word and news that a predicting strong Storm (named Storm Nadia and the first one in over a century), would make way to where he lived at his local hilly village, he heard no orders of evacuations to take place, but cautions were warned out to remain home and not go outdoors by any means necessary.

Neville’s heart began to beat faster and his mind dividing into pieces as fear and worry dashed his mind so worryingly. He knew he and his cottage would be able to withstand the storm, but his plants would be all blown over from the roots and all his hard work of therapy taken away from him by the oncoming Storm. Who knows it could be just a gamble for the gardenly yard if some sought of protection was put into place?

But Neville was unsure of ideas as he could not think of any of protection or shelter of his beloved plants outdoors, it’s not like he could just magically bring in a greenhouse over the seedlings or place plastic coverings of sought over the plants to fend off from the storm, it would also be pointless in an effort to do so with the struggle and tussle with the rain and wind blocking his way.

Later that evening, after the whole village emptied with all the locals self-isolating for the night in the homes, and most of them taking shelter in their trap doors or basements. The Storm worsened with the rain striking down faster like a flash flood, the winds howled and blustered so hard that it could blow over a large, rooted tree and the strength to blow over a car upside down. The worst was yet to avail as the thunder growled so viscously it threated to form lightning bolts around the village and beyond, the air felt like a force a jumbo jet propulsion that could potentially push you of from the ground you walk to a couple of yards practically as strong as a tilde wave. The warnings of evacuations still did not take place but of the advisement of the government warns to remain at home till dawn as when Storm Nadia will pass in the morning.

Neville set up all in his cramped, slightly disfigured basement with a sleeping sack, a hot water bottle, ear warmers (to cast out the noisy weather), a glass candle holder, and a warm mug of tea. He even wore his silver ware watch on his wrist his wife gave to him to keep the time close to him throughout the morning. He shut the basement window firmly and placed a piece of cardboard over it as he had no curtains blind out the night view from outside, especially from keeping out the storm.

Throughout the night sleeping on the floor of his sack, sleep had barely consumed him till late with the mischief and bothersome melody of the storm outside, all his mind was set and worried about for his dazzling seedling displays of his back garden about to be potentially overthrown and shrouded by the grim bitter weather conditions by Nadia. All he could do was try to get some rest, and pray and hope by the thought of blessing of his wife from his watch, that the flowers of his back garden would be able to withstand the storm, depending if there any minor damages towards them he can simply make a few adjustments to fix and restore them, but it seemed impossible of the thought with the storm still occurring in the night but sleep finally consumed him after much tossing, turning and nervousness.

Dawn broke at last, the storm had finally settled without much worse to be astray, though the air occurred silent as the winds died out and the rain halted. The village remained untouched, unharmed and unchanged from the aftermath of the storm, besides from a tree tumbled down blocking one side of a road, a garden bench with an umbrella blown to another neighbours back garden and a fence of another neighbour knocked over. Theatrically the outcome of Storm Nadia was minor, but it seemed like a dire aftermath as the silence was rather dismal.

Neville woke up early yawning with much tiredness as he least much of sleep last night, the ear warmers helped in a way but knowing that his mind was so full of apprehension and concern for his back garden, never mind a fence being blown over. He changed into his gardening gear not daring to open his curtains to view of from his window of his back garden until he saw it right in front of him clearly with his own eyes. He stepped outside with the sun casting out gleamingly and the rain leaving behind a few puddles on the pavement, but the humble man didn’t even acknowledge anything else of his surroundings but of his flowers, left in ruin.

The moment of dread came as he took a deep breath before opening his door to his back garden to check the aftermath of what the storm may or may not have done to his flowers hoping that some dirt may have spilled over, or the flowers brushed aside slightly. Though it would become of what he dreaded to expect the moment he opened the door and set foot outside. Many of the flowers virtually in shatters, as the Bluebells, Lupins, Jasmines and Cherry Laurels looked sprayed in soil and almost earthed as though the dirt sank on top of them. The Tulips, Snowdrops, Pink Cyclamens and Borages spread aside like they were jet washed so hard; the rest of the flowers were as though the wind of the storm snatched them away like a plant thief drifted away without a trance.

Neville's face dropped like an ice-cream melting in a matter of seconds with his head pouring down, his shoulders descended and a tear jerking up from one of his eyes as his mind darkened in complete depress, frustration and saddened all in a heartbeat. He had lost all hope and felt like giving up gardening all together, it was like losing his wife all over again but out of the grief of nature for his flowers. Misery and sorrow sank the man’s heart as all he could do was mourn for his hard work all snatched away from him in one night.

It wasn’t until when he raised his head marginally as something small orange and yellowy caught his eye in front of him where most of the soil and remains of the Cherry Laurels lay by its side. At first Neville assumed it was a Daisy that was yet to expand more for another week until full growth, but when Neville approached it and kneeling to get a closer look, he gazed down on a Marigold Flower that was practically grown and expanded so beautifully, alluring, and enticing quite like the brightness and display of the sun above. The wasn’t even a trace of dirt or much of raindrops coated upon it.

It was quite a splendid view to see the Marigold for him as he touched and stroked the flower carefully, but he was left rather confused as to how it grew over night in such a grievous storm and surviving the aftermath. No flower ever grows so quick in a day, out of logic from Neville, it would take time, water and much sun as possibly balanced for a flower to photosynthesis and expand that way. He certainly knew better as he was the gardening expert; many more thoughts came sprinting round his mind as to how such a miracle of a flower would do something so rare upon this earth almost like magic.

Was it the seeds, was it the storm, was it some sought of miracle, he thought?

Until one thought of proclaim with a lightbulb flashed in his mind, maybe it was the blessing of his wife that made the flower grow so quickly and drastically overnight withstanding a storm without being so drenched or blown away like the other flourishing seedlings, perhaps it was like an answer to a prayer he had been craving for since the passing of Raina.

Because of this and further without question of thought, Neville stood with his back straight, shoulders firm, wiping an eye and a deep breath fuelling his lungs brushing away all the dark miserable thoughts of stress so slowly. He knew now that the storm had finally past and with no other recent or upcoming storms set to occur from the weather again from the radio channel, he sighed and breathed in again heavily with only a few words let out to say after a sign of a glimmered hope by the glistening orange yellowy flower mysteriously grown and withstood the storm overnight. Neville, looked down upon as though it had the strength of tree roots and a seed that bared a real golden heart reminding him of his late wife.

“Guess it’s time to rebuild, maybe with a little more Marigold, and maybe more Bluebells", he said looking up to the stars as though he was talking to Raina above.