I had always thought that I was the one that decided where the plants would grow. I would hoe and till and plant the seeds. As I grew older, I have came to realize that that is not necessarily true.
Take the tiny library box that sits at our curb. My husband built the box several years ago and I held a happy hour in my house, provided the goodies and all people had to do was bring a book for the library. We planted the seeds in our neighborhood for sharing with each other.
It was at that meeting that we talked about what people enjoyed. It was suggested that not only books but puzzles should be put in the box. We were off and running. The seeds had been planted.
It wasn't until the next fall when my husband and I were in preparation for departure that I realized that someone would need to keep watch over that precious box. It needed to be straightened, kept dry and occasionally purged of books that nobody wanted to read.
I trooped over next door with a silicone drier and asked my neighbor if she would mind being the caretaker.
What happened next is the part where the seeds grew not in my front yard but in my neighbor's heart. The dear dear woman cleaned, rearranged and even decided what to take away. Several years have passed now and she feels that the box is her's as much as it is ours. What a beautiful flower had grown. She was the one that made the box a neighborhood gift.
Janette is 86 years old and a dear friend/neighbor. Am I lucky or what?
My life is wonderful.
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