Over the next few months, there were many similar expeditions, and Barnabas found his mood improving slightly. He hoped no one would notice. One day, not long before spring, as they lounged near the pool, Vincent looked at Barnabas mischievously and said, “You know, it’s planting season.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we could start a little garden. In the clearing, here.”

“I’ve never grown anything before.”

“Right. Bad for the black magic. But anyway, I have.”

Barnabas sighed. “What did you want to grow?”

“You know, turnips, rutabagas, squash, carrots, flowers, anything, really.”

“Sounds stressful.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“Until I kill it all.”

“So dramatic,” Vincent sighed. “Honestly, we can do it together and it’ll be fine.”

“Sure.”

So they planted, and they tended, and they watched things grow.