The dogs barked as her dusty-grey pickup crept up our slag driveway a little while ago. The boys ran through the living room half-naked to see who was coming. If it's a stranger, they always rush about putting their clothes back on...again. But it's Ms. Lishman, so they run out the door in their button-up shirts and underwear, complete with holsters and hats.
Back hunched over from ninety years of hard work, she cranes her neck so she can examine the tops of my pecan trees. "Just look at all those pecans Dearie!" I show her the bucket full that I've already gathered so far. She grasps her cane and a plastic sack from the front seat, "I brought you some okra."
We sit together at the picnic table behind the house and look at the garden. I point out the red cabbage, the broccoli, the greens, and the squash. There's still plenty of room for kale and carrots, maybe some cauliflower.
Sweet Pea buries her head in my shoulder, and gnaws on her fingers with her gums and four teeth. She's tired and teething. Ms. Lishman tries to comfort her as the boys tell stories of ...
how they worked so hard in the garden.
"Every time you feel in God’s creatures
something pleasing and attractive,
do not let your attention be arrested by them alone,
but, passing them by,
transfer your thought to God and say:
“O my God, if Thy creations are so full of beauty, delight and joy,
how infinitely more full of beauty, delight and joy
art thou thyself,
Creator of all!”
— Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain
