((Open thread. Couldn't edit the subject line afterwards.))
By now the other people working at the church grounds had gotten used to the sight of the bishop getting his hands dirty with physical labour. Henry was thankful for that. It had been a minor scandal at first, the church officials feeling like they needed to figure out what kind of cloth it would be prudent for a bishop to wear while working the land and other such formalities. It could be quite amusing, but it was serious business for those who considered it their concern. In the end, Henry had convinced others that he would wear the same ordinary robes as everyone else.
During the summertime there was plenty of upkeep to handle with the crops. From a humble seed they grew, and needed to be nurtured and cared for so that one might reap a rich harvest. Someone more prone to poetry or philosophy would probably turn that into a metaphor for all life. Right now Henry was resting his mind while he worked his body.
The bishop blended in with the others while he traversed the garden, his eyes cast down upon the plants. Whenever he saw a weed or a dead leaf, he leaned down to pluck it out. The clouds occasionally blocked out the sun, keeping him from getting too hot underneath the robes. The weather thus far during the summer had been good for crops, neither too sunny or too rainy. Henry hoped that would continue, more for the sake of all the farmers than the church gardens.
While those who regularly worked here could easily recognize the bishop in this setting and getup, the common folk were much less likely to do that. They normally only saw Henry at a distance in ornamental robes. Thus far there had been some intriguing encounters when people had come to do business and ran into Henry without realizing his position. As it was, he was just passing the garden gate during his inspection, and likely to be the first person someone entering there would ask for further guidance.