I pulled the hoop building door open and peeked into my garden. With pleasure I admired a row of blooming yellow and purple violas. My chrysanthemums had survived the winter; all six plants were bravely pushing up mounds of fresh green shoots. Even the yellow tea rose bush was fully covered with new leaves. Wishing I could till the garden and get it ready for planting, I backed away and shut the door.
I thought, “Before I can take care of the garden, I need to clean out my childhood home.” I had just moved my two elderly bachelor brothers into an assisted living home. The farmhouse was sold and my brothers were depending on me to sort though and manage their belongings. Continue reading