I’m 73, in a wheelchair, and my tiny yard is pretty much my whole world. When my new neighbor started treating it like her personal dumpster and laughed in my face when I asked her to stop, I decided to respond in a way she would never forget.
I’m 73, retired, and in a wheelchair.
People see the chair and think my world shrank.
It didn’t.
I’ve got two young maples in the front, three fat old evergreens along the side, and a little garden that I fuss over like it’s a firstborn.
Even in winter, I’m out there.
I wrap the trees so the cold doesn’t split them. I brush snow off the evergreens so the branches don’t snap. I salt the path in neat lines. I fill the bird feeder every morning.
