“A Muslim who plants a tree or sows a field, from which man, birds and animals can eat, is committing an act of charity.” (Hadith Muslim)
After 2 years of living in this house, we finally got brave enough to do something about the garden.
About the old untended plants of my mothers and her bougainvillea full of twigs instead of flowers. Daisy is running around playing with the gardening tools and defiling her hands with soil too. Fakhrul must be feeling so hot of the afternoon sun he lifted half of his t-shirt up, sweating his sweat gland out. This is what our last few Sundays have come down to – gardening. Cutting overgrown trees, clearing the bricked path from the small gate, hoping it would rejuvenate the space. Gardening. The physical work of being artistic with leaves and twigs, the dirty job playing with soil and the occasional stagger finding centipede underneath it or earth worms that made me shriek.
Never in my life I thought I’d enjoy this.