Going about the mundane tasks that a garden demandsweeding, trimming, pinching, and groomingmy mind often wanders. A poem I learned many years ago sometimes brings me back to the present.
You know how it's really nice to have a story to tell about something? Well, here's the story of Doris's dogwood tree.... We have known Doris's son, Tom, for nearly forever. Steve and Tom played basketball together in high school.
As I sit here at the computer, there is a neighborhood confab going on across the street between three men and a single woman. They are earnestly discussing the latest scourge to hit the neighborhood! I watch as there is much gesturing here and there in the side and backyard of the house there.
