The gardener turned on the faucet and let steaming water fill the basin. They'd been wrist-deep in soil all morning, and it covered their hands and had found its way deep into the crevices of their palms and fingertips and under their nails. The water, not quite scalding, darkened with everything they couldn't manage to wipe off before coming in.

The work was harsh and unending, requiring dedication and resistance to futility. Gardening has two parts: nurturing and protecting plants that bring health and beauty to the garden, and plucking out those that do not. It is the latter of those two that demands the most vigilance.

The gardener took the stiff brush to their skin, then their fingernails. The last part of the work was always to leave the gardening in the garden. If they failed to scrub clean the soil from their fingers, they risked others judging them for the depth of their dedication, and they couldn't afford to be separated from the garden, to leave it to itself. It would grow disorderly, overgrown with species invasive and unbeautiful.

They finished cleaning and opened the basin to let the water run down and away, soiled dark as blood.