Erna

Erna gardened the way a mother may raise a child - at times meticulous, at times benignly distant, intuitively, dutifully, with gratitude. Her shed was full of possibly useful tools and salvage, her kitchen warm, her home blissfully cluttered, in the sense of someone who has done without, and who appreciates small things. Unwavering, undemanding. She smiles, knowingly.

Walter

Walter, even if he had a nicer home, would prefer to sleep in a shed if that is all his brother had. He tended his mother's land after his father died. He worked for years in a steel mill, raising his family. He then farmed until his body grew too old. He faced illness and mortality with quiet determination. Though he disfavored idleness, he appreciated companied recreation. Such solidarity and humble strength may not produce material abundance. I don't think Walter cared.