Thru Autumn's Golden Gown we used to pick our way

I give you Pumpkin.  (or maybe squash) 

You can't help but feel Autumny up at the allotment, and when i think Autumn, I hear the plaintive sounds of Justin Hayward,   When I think of Autumn, and Justin Hayward, I think of Ben. 

Ben was one of my employees years ago.  He was a lovely chap.   No great aspirations in life, other than to get by.  He loved talking to folk, he loved his job.    

He was super tall, and super strong.   He could carry a tray with six main courses on it, with sides, all the way from the kitchen to the tables, avoiding drunk customers and screaming children. 

One weekend, on a Friday night he was late for his shift.  He apologized profusely and told me his little sister was sick, and he was waiting for his mum and dad to come home because he didn't think she should be alone. 

On Saturday, he phoned again and asked if he could work the late shift, rather than the early.  His sister was still poorly and he wanted to stay with her again, rather than her be in bed alone. 

On Sunday, he phoned, and said, "I can't make my shift today I'm sorry,   My sister got taken to hospital". 

On Monday.   She died. 

I went to the funeral and I sat and watched as row after row of 13-year-old girls filled in holding a tissue to their faces. 

I sat as the celebrant spoke kind words of sympathy to her family and friends,. 

And then, as he asked us to think of the family for a few minutes of contemplation, Justin's voice came over the speaker.   

And every time I hear it, I wait for a moment and think about the little girl who should have been 48 this year. 

And I wonder about Ben.