I'm telling you, both this year and last, I saw him come out with his plaid bathrobe, dark slip on slippers, Sunday mornings each time, a mug of coffee I presume, in one hand. In mid August, no less, leaning down to weed a small , maybe 3 foot wide , circle of garden.
Plant a flowering annual in the clay pot. Sprinkle some white rocks about the soil, as well, Plant a couple more annuals.
Then you'd see him, some summer evenings- maybe back, after work ? Standing quietly, admiring his little garden. I mean, it was pretty.
I love that. I think back to it ,all year round, as I drive by each day.
Wondering what this is - the noticing, but not knowing, of neighborhoods.
And wondering if I'm going to catch sight of the creation moment , next time around.
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