Unlike most Hobbits, Bilbo did not care very much for the hard work of gardening. At most, he could grow a rather tasty tomato. That was enough of his interest in the matter. He enjoyed flowers and their ilk, of course, and that was why he’d kept a gardener around.
It made for a lovely scene outside Bag End. One which he could enjoy by settling himself onto the bench, pipe in hand. Some days, the especially sunny ones, he’d snag a sunhat. It was a day like that, though the sun had begun setting its way down the horizon. He had the hat’s brim pulled down over his eyes.
That sometimes kept passing neighbors and busybodies from bothering him, for they presumed he’d fallen asleep.
Not always, though, as he heard the telltale sound of someone approaching. His ear twitched, somewhat muffled by the sunhat. Regardless he could recognize the footfalls as they closed in on him. Hobbits rarely made so much noise.
And, also, unlike any Hobbit, he had a dwarf for a husband.