Prompt: Difficult Greenery

Zephyr Breeze’s room had begun to accumulate a dankness as he laid in bed, stationary, for what had been the last few days. He had little motivation to do anything, except stare at the ceiling and wait for a second drowsiness to finally take him under so he can sleep the day away… again. “I guess I’m not TOO far gone,” he thought. He took care of his hygiene, he made and ate his meals, and he worked at the local hayburger, albeit part-time. He became more irritable as usual to his parents, whom he lived with, when his weekly work hours went beyond 30. He always tried to reaffirm himself, gain back some semblance of confidence in finding pride in the little things he did. But self-loathing always found its way through, and he’d continue to struggle through the day with his own mind as his worst enemy.
It had been around 8 months since Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had pushed him to finish mane therapy school. That was a high point, and he felt that he had learned something important. Start little things, see them through, build from there, and see where it takes you. But nowadays, he struggled to find any sort of joy in doing one small thing. “Celestia, I’m a failure”, “Why in Tartarus can’t I do this”, “There must be something fundamentally wrong with me.” It was all these thoughts and more that kept him strapped to his bed.
These dark thoughts were closing in on him now, too close for comfort, and that second drowsiness of the day was not coming anytime soon. “I guess I’ll go for a walk. Walking is fine, not like I have to run.” He slumped out of his bed, feeling the weight of an afternoon nap on his shoulders: the grogginess, the headache, that miserable feeling. “Perhaps with enough walking, I can build up to a fitness routine to woo all the mares,” he thought with a smile.
He went to the bathroom, fixed up his hair a little bit, sprayed some stallion body spray, and ventured out of the house. He was walking down the front yard, towards the gate, when he noticed the condition of his mother’s garden. The flowers were wilting, the produce was brown and mushy-looking, and he noticed pests here and there all over the greenery. It’s a wonder the house wasn’t infested. Mrs. Shy had recently taken on a demanding job at the local greenhouse, which, Zephyr assumed, left her with no time to tend to her own garden. Mr. Shy had come out of retirement to work in the Cloud Factory again, since a little financial trouble had hit the family. A mare walked by with her cat, who made eye contact with Zephyr and the house garden before moving on. “Wow, this must be a sight for sore eyes,” he referred to the garden.
“Whatever.” He pushed past the gate and continued on down the road. A few houses down was an old stallion tending to his own front yard. His plants glowed with health and beauty, and he was currently trimming a bush that lined the path to his front door. He had a stoic look to him, he had obviously seen some years and hard times, seeming to live on a plane of existence not even fathomable by Zephyr.
Zephyr continued on to the farmer’s market down the street, where he planned to buy himself an easy-ready, microwavable soup. The blue-maned pegasus mare manning the stand looked bored. She was staring off into space before Zephyr approached with that playboy grin he always sported around the ladies. “Hey, fancy bumping into you today.” The mare just looked at Zephyr, her expression cringing, “Ew.”
Usually Zephyr is quite resilient with these responses. I mean, he had been chasing Rainbow Dash all these years for crying out loud. But today, it already felt like a full time job walking to the stand. Zephyr breathed a heavy sigh, “Sorry,” and ordered his microwave dinner feeling defeated.
Zephyr walking home was a whole different energy than the walk to the market. Earlier, he had exuded regular confidence, but now his shoulders slumped and he kept his eyes on the sidewalk. He had passed the house of the gardening stallion, who was still tending to his bushes. Zephyr passed his side of the fence when he heard a deep, gruff, voice. “That garden of yours could use some work.” He turned back to the Stallion, whose eyes were still laser set on the bushes. “Yeah, um, it’s my mom who usually takes care of it. She doesn’t have lots of time nowadays, though.” The stallion stayed quiet for a moment. “I can come by tomorrow and teach you a few things, then you’d be able to take care of it on your own.” Zephyr was a little surprised at this offer. Without really putting much thought into it he finally responded, “Oh uh, yeah sure.”
They agreed on a time, and Zephyr finally learned his name: Coarse Dirt.
The next morning, Zephyr slept through his alarm. Only finally getting out of bed when he heard a faint thumping that he finally realized was a knock on the door. He had only just realized that it was time for gardening. He rushed downstairs and greeted Dirt at the door. Dirt looked Zephyr up and down, he had obviously just got out of bed. “I’ll give you a moment,” Dirt stated, to which Zephyr nodded and headed back to freshen up.
When they had finally started, Dirt toured around Mrs. Shy’s garden, inspecting it, pointing to plants and telling Zephyr about them. “These petunias need to be watered thrice a day, they’re demanding.” “These insects thrive off of unkempt soil.” Zephyr listened intently, though with a little impatience since he was in his irritable “morning mood.” Dirt’s gardening lesson lasted about an hour, after which Zephyr thanked him and sent him back home. He breathed a sigh of relief watching Dirt walk down the street. He took a look at the garden. “I’ll do it later.”
This, he actually did. Dirt’s instructions were simple enough, plus it was just gardening, right? It turned out that it was actually quite sweaty, uncomfortable, back aching work. Zephyr’s impatience was constantly on edge only within a few minutes of tending to the garden. And when his work was finished, he would look back at the garden and realize that nothing had really changed. Sure, the bugs were picked off but more were already taking their place. And it already looked like he didn’t even water the plants. Zephyr heaved a sigh of frustration as he walked back into the house to clean himself up.
This would continue on for the next few weeks. Zephyr dragged himself out to the garden and did all the little necessities Dirt told him to do. Zephyr was not used to this much work. And Dirt would come by weekly just to have what seemed to be an even more expansive list of gardening instructions.
On week 3, Zephyr just stopped. When Dirt knocked on the door, he did not answer. And waited until the front gate finally closed signalling Dirt’s departure. A month passed with Zephyr not even giving the garden a single glance when he passed through. Then eventually, when going for another walk to the market for some easy-ready dinner, a wilted flower lay on the path to the gate. Zephyr eyed it for a moment before turning his attention to the garden. The garden was pretty much in the same ruined condition as it was that day he first met Dirt, but it was a little different. The tulips stood a little taller, the roses were a little redder and even in semi-wilt they seemed to cling on to life. Zephyr pondered on this a moment before continuing on to his errand.
The next day Zephyr started gardening again. Though he took it a little easier this time. Progress was noticeably slower than his first attempt, but he continued onward. He approached Coarse Dirt to resume the weekly gardening lessons, and Zephyr seemed to be able to build a consistent gardening schedule that wasn’t too neglectful nor too demanding.
About a month into this second wind, Zephyr was tilling the soil when a mare walked by with her cat. This was the same mare that had made eye contact with Zephyr months ago, when the garden still had no caretaker. She paused in front of the Shy’s residence. “Nice garden!” She exclaimed to Zephyr. Zephyr was taken out of his focus, looking up. “Oh! Thank you.”
Although Zephyr’s gardening workload was a lot better than his first attempt, it would be a repeated cycle of him hitting a roadblock and stopping for a few weeks, before heading back into it and approaching Dirt once again for assistance. There would be a third wind of gardening, then a fourth and fifth. But Zephyr always came back. The mare walking by also started to stop by for conversation during her walks. She had kept a garden at her house as well, and her and Zephyr were able to bond over conversations about flora-tending.
And so years went by, and although it seemed to Zephyr that he was still the same stallion that was rotting in bed all those years ago, he now had a garden to take care of. His repeated stagnation, followed by continued perseverance had made him realize that maybe the pace he was approaching life at was, at the end of the day, just fine. He had also built up his weekly work hours to full time, and felt pride in being able to work his job and tend to his garden at the same time. In these pursuits, he seemed to be in bed less often than he once had been.
.
Zephyr pondered on this as he stared in the mirror, his reflection looking back at him in a fine black suit with a green tie. He still felt the same, he had days where he was lazy and the garden saw a little more sloppier work than usual. But he continued to tend to that garden. And the garden was lively now, as radiant as Dirt's was that one fateful day, with deep red roses and bright violets. The door opened, and Mr. Shy peaked inside the room. “The ceremony’s starting, son! I’m so proud of you.” Zephyr looked back at his father with a grin, “thanks dad.” It was Zephyr’s wedding day, where he would agree to spend the rest of his life with the mare who he had gotten to know through gardening. The one who, at one point, only spared Zephyr and his garden a fleeting glance on her late-afternoon walks. Zephyr breathed deeply, stood up, and took one look outside at the beautiful lawn outside the window, before walking out of the door and into the sanctuary.