Gardener's Yield

Six children, six! We’ve been lucky, Bell and me, blessed.

Gamgees have been tending the Hill for four generations now; four! But there’s just my Sam, now, my Sam’s stayed to home.

A gardener wants to plant somethin’ that’ll grow, that’ll bloom and give back to the soil. Wild flowers are pretty enough, but they scatter their seeds as can, come what may. That’s not what a gardener wants.

Sam’s had all I’ve got to give, now; oh, not letters and such like but things just as important, and I’ve seen them take root and grow in ‘im.

Aye, blessed.