Marigold Man

Here is an illustration I did of Marigold Man.

It was a hot summer day when Marigold Man posed for his portrait. The sun was blazing down, turning the distant streets blurry with heat. The more delicate flowers were wilting, their dainty petals dry and limp from the constant sun. But Marigold man could sustain composure even on the hottest day. It was the only time he would ever have a chance to get his portrait painted. Despite the great heat, he wore his absolute best outfit for the sitting, which unfortunately consisted of a thick brown shirt, tweed trousers and a heavy woolen coat. Marigold Man was not usually a gentleman taken with vanity. But he knew there were thousands of marigolds in the world. He wanted to be remembered among all these marigolds that grew every summer and perished every fall. He wanted to be remembered even when he was just dried orange petals, scattered in the dirt. So Marigold man endured the heat and stared forward with determination!

In a thousand years from now, someone will find Marigold Man's portrait lying coated with dirt where once there was a home and a garden. The person will look at the portrait and think "I wonder who this man was. I wonder what his life was like. He looks like a fine fellow! A person I could be friends with."

Marigold Man's spirit somewhere off being a ghost or reincarnated in some other body will feel a twinge of delight at the exact moment this distant stranger is looking at his portrait and wondering.