"Jack is watering your plants," Myra says, a hamburger bun splayed in front of her, ranch and ketchup heaping and generous.
"He takes such good care of me," I say. I picture the seventy holes he dug, post-hole-digger mastered and nimble in his hands, and how all I had to do was tuck my tomato plants into the ground and smooth the dirt over their roots and long stems.
"He does?" she says.
"Yep," I say, "taking care of all my plant needs." I layer bacon, onions, mushrooms, bbq, and mustard on my bun.
"Sounds like he's going to be a good dad some day," she says.
"Taking care of his wife," she say.
"Um hmm," we smile at the rightness of a man providing for his family. Even at eight, Myra understands.
6571. My cousin stops by, a rare visit punctuated by children playing tag through the yard, the two of us laughing, and pleasant treasures of honey, asparagus, and tomato plants.
6572. A dearest friend visits and among more children chatter and play, we talk and pray, more riches untold.
6573. My parents join us for dinner -- bbq burgers, salads, round-robin visiting, relaxing, and lingering -- nourishment in many forms.
6574. A dear neighbor invites a couple of kids to work in her yard and sends them home with a meal for the whole family. Tetrazzini, delicious.
6575. Lucy turns ten, peace and contentment her continuing mark on this world.
6576. Craig and the children continue to stitch our yard into a harmonious union of lawn and gardens. We predict we will grow 150 tomatoes this year.
6577. So many friends, family, and new customers visit the greenhouse business. We enjoy every single one.
6578. Lucy and I learn the principle algorithms to solve a rubix cube. We laugh and laugh when I tell a neighbor that I can now solve five sides of the cube, just have to figure out the sixth one.
6579. A hot spring day punctuates Mother's Day and best of all we enjoy the summation of all the days we've grown love between us. For my children, my mother, and my mother-in-law, I am so very grateful.