Bruce didn't get to see Ma Kent often. Not as often as Clark, and not as often as he should, considering his fondness for the woman. He would never say it, although both she and her son knew, but there was a reason he was here on Mother's Day, rather than at home, working. It wasn't simple politeness, or a desire to humor her.
He had come early, purposefully, in order to have some time with Ma before Clark arrived. It was a gesture he could offer, something a bit more, without needing to struggle through what was most difficult for him: verbally expressing his feelings.
Straightening, Bruce wiped the sweat from his forehead on his arm as he turned around. His jacket was folded over the top rail of another section of the fence, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. In spite of his obvious efforts, he still looked remarkably unwrinkled. "There's too much sunlight here," he groused, simply for effect. The lack of a scowl betrayed his mild mood. "I thought I'd keep myself busy while waiting on you."