Although the scorching heat had long since passed, people still had not rebuilt the mental defenses needed to go out and work after the terror brought by the extreme temperatures. Merkel contacted lawn crews and gardening companies more than a dozen times, only to receive the same answer: "No manpower."
And in Gotham, the price of hiring workers from elsewhere at a premium was unimaginable. With the best planting season about to pass, Schiller decided not to wait any longer and simply restore the garden himself.
It was quite a bold decision, because the manor's garden was no ordinary flowerbed in the yard of a small villa. The greatest feature of the former Viscount Manor was its absurdly enormous backyard garden, unrivaled throughout the West End. Removing the plants that had died alone would take tremendous effort.
But Schiller had ready-made manpower. Standing by the door and watching Clark, dressed in waders, walk into the garden with his dog, he contentedly patted the dirt from his Gauntlet.
Pamela stood at the front, showing Clark the way. "Over here. Every plant in this entire area needs to be removed. Don't look at me like that—they're already dead. I'm not even heartbroken over them, so what are you upset about?"
Clark hesitantly pushed aside the weeds at the front, peered inside, and asked, "When you say remove them, do you mean just destroy what's above ground, or dig up the roots too?"
"If possible, I'd like to bury the plants' remains, then turn over the soil to a depth of two feet. That will help the next batch of plants survive."
Pamela spread her hands. "Plants inevitably wither. They grow, bloom, and then fade. That is the law of nature. No one wanted the sudden climate change to kill these plants, but