Garden Patch

Our roof is falling apart, our basement floods with some regularity in heavy rains, and the paint is
flaking off the walls outside, revealing bare wood beneath. Most of the flat surfaces inside the house collect stuff each time any of us walks in the door.
So, one of the first things I do each day is go outside and look at the front garden patch. We have no yard at all, just a little patch of dirt in front of the porch, a few big planters, and some flower boxes. But somehow that little patch of dirt gives me so much pleasure. Basil thrives, tomatoes grow by the dozen, flowers bloom. Many days a certain older woman from down the block comes and just stares at all the plants with an angelic smile on her face. I think maybe she is what makes things grow so well out there.