The last couple of weeks have been exhausting. Ellen and I lost a dear friend in death, a brother-in-law ( who befriended me from the first time we met) passed away and I caught a virus which sapped my little bit of energy that I might have. I have neglected my gardens the last month or so, thus I worry about weeds, missing some seed for another spring, or missing a plant that is a hidden gem in the beds. Then Alex, in passing, mentioned how the front yard looks over growing and junky and embarrassment to our street. Yes, the nicotiana is over eight feet, with leaves the size of umbrellas, nastrutium trailing over sidewalk, passion vine, which is so beautiful (which I am so grateful to cousin Todd) is climbing through every bush it can find. Brush pick-up for the city of BG is coming up soon. I love to recycle grass clippings, sticks that have fallen, weeds, old plants that have finished blooming back to the earth. When I recycle my brush, I feel like I am doing some good for the shrews, butterflies, bees, wasp, toad, rabbits, birds, well you get the picture. So around the yard, which is more like a postage stamp, with gardens around every corner, around the house, up and down the driveway and sidewalk, thus there are many piles of excellent mulch. The rotting leaves, sticks and other debri, will encourage fungus, mushrooms and other jewels. If I see a bag of waste plant clippings from a neighbor I quickly snatch it up, which my family finds disturbing. That bag might contain a rich assortment of goods. Which brings me back to brush pick-up. The boys have made it very clear, they will determine what will be at the road. In fact, they have mentioned, that once I am gone, they will mow off the beds. You must understand, while the boys where growing up, there a number of restriction. The boys were allowed to play in the yard, but be careful, not right there, no move more this way, caution this is a prize plant. Please play in the street but more up the street or move down the street, you are still to close. Our epitaph, our inscription is up to us. Some use little letters or big letters, this font or that font, red ink or blue ink. Our writing is represented by an inexhaustible number of jobs that encircles this earth. Even if you feel to puny to leave a mark, you do leave that mark. Never, ever, under estimate how you are earmarked. You simply do. A point, which I remember, from Elbert Hubbard's Scrap Book (which I give big thanks to cousin Becky for this book) this point is applied to each one us "A handful of pine-seed will cover mountains with the green majesty of forest. I too will set my face to the wind and throw my handful of seed on high." Until the next time HeWal