On the outskirts1 of a town in England nestles a nice cottage with a large garden where there lives an old and aged2 man. The old man is seen pruning3（修剪） , watering or fertilizing4 his flowers all the time. The garden where bees and butterflies dance and gorgeous flowers mass all year around is so well-tended that every passer-by cannot but halt for a glance.
One day a young painter went by the old man's garden. He gazed at the splendid garden and the special cottage totally lost in admiration5 at the beauty of these sceneries, picturing how happy he could be if he lived in such a beautiful place. Then, suddenly he found the old gardener was blind. Shocked, the painter approached that old man, asking why are you busy tending these flowers every day which you can't see as a matter of fact? The blind gardener smiled an answer that I can tell you four reasons. First, I was a gardener when I was young, and I really like this job. Second, although I can't see these flowers, yet I can touch them. Third, I can smell the sweetness of them. As to the last one, that's you.
Me? But you don't know me. responded the painter perplexed6（困惑的） still.
Yeah, it's true that I don't know you. But I know flowers are earthly angels which everyone knows and would never turn them down. I know many a people who show animation7 in life would sTOP by and the beauty of my garden will get them into a good mood. In the meantime,it also extends a chance to me to have a word with you here and to enjoy the happiness these flowers have brought us.
The old man's words astounded8 me a great deal with pleasure. The blind man grows flowers and serves them as a link of minds so as to make everybody enjoy the glorious sunshine in spring. He can't see the beauty he's created, however, this delightful9 prospect10 has had our eyes feasted, our environment embellished11（修饰，装饰） and our hearts pleased, which the other way around has also enriched his life. Just like Beethoven with failed eyes, however, composed a sea of heart-gripping melodies. Beethoven himself couldnt hear his wonderful music. But these classics have passed on through decades and inspired millions of people to take arms against the fate. Isn't it one kind of happiness?
The blind people in the garden is alone but not lonely. All the flower-appreciators are his friends; all flowers are his neighbours. These flowers sleep in the bosom12 of moonlight and wake up with the dew's kiss. When sun shines, the bees hum and buzz by his window with a light greeting. Just think about this lovely picture a little bit, wont13 shed joyful14 tears?
I believe every flower has eyes with which they can see the kindness of the old man's heart and the sweetness of his soul. The blind man grows flowers in his heart. Failing the sight of the beauty of blossoming, he surely can hear the voice of it, I suppose.
