The two sons later died. In the northern garden, there was no one to command the workers. The tulips died and the workers abandoned the field. The southern garden's workers continued to take care of their plots. Lazy workers would sell their plots to give way to more eager and productive workers.
We live between these two gardens. We work for the son who treats the field as would a mercenary, without regard for the garden or the worker. The purpose of the garden and the worker is his own glory and the glory of his tulip. Some of us live in gardens where despite knowing a better flower, are restricted from growing. For some of us this is not flowers but rice, or automobiles or new business models that may lift our countrymen out of poverty.
May we all one day live in the southern garden, with a master who loves the field and its worker. May we live in such a garden where the master's reward is the growth of the field and worker for its own sake. May wild flowers in all their sizes and shapes grow in this garden with worker and flower alike surviving beyond the life of their master.