It was cool that July 2005 morning. In this hilly neighborhood it is difficult to find a near-flat place to walk. As one winds down a treesome street, there is a large buff-brick house seated ante-goggling on a corner. What is so striking about this house is its velvety dark green St. Augustine grass. It hasnít always been that way. About 12 or 15 years ago, an elderly lady dressed in an old-timey calico dress, gray-hair pulled in a bun could be seen from early morning until noon or after sitting on that grass. She was pulling, pulling, pulling errant clover. Her name was never known, but she did tell the story once that she had had a home of her own, but got old and unable to stay by herself. Her son brought her to live with him. This house was very nice, but it was not her home. As long as she sat outside on the ground pulling weeds, she said, she found peace. She didnít seem to be bothered with the arthritis and other maladies that sent people walking and running past her every day for health. She just sat there calmly pulling weeds, whether sunny or cloudy (but not in the rain).

No one knows why the yard now is so beautiful. But those who stopped and talked with the gray-haired lady know. She lived long enough to pull all the weeds that worried her, and left her beautiful legacy for all to enjoy.

Simple thing, pulling weeds. People strive for the grandiose, but most likely will be remembered for their simple tasks.

 

 

© Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)

 

 


Watch these pages for more stories by Norma.
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Balancing Act

A Teacher's Farewell

Autumn Leaves

The Unseen Singer

July Rain

The Mulberry Tree

Queen Anne's Lace

A Stroll Through The Meadow



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