Girl, you need to plant something!

Several years ago I found myself living in my grandmother's house. After being virtually vacant for a few years, the home was in need of some serious TLC. My husband and I quickly began to work on the inside and made good progress.  As Spring approached, I would often take a seat on the front steps and enjoy the weather. Mr Dean (an older man who lived across the street) seemed to be on his "stoop" everyday. As the days went by, he started to spruce up his front. This pretty much revolved around planting and fluffing and watering of a single window box. This was so funny to me because he didn't cut his own grass, there were no hanging flower baskets, no flower box for his other window, no potted plants and his shrubbery left a little to be desired. Why does he focus on this one window box when the rest of his yard needed help? I was not inspired by his gardening aspirations; not even a little bit. I continued to sit on the step and look beyond my own barren land into the yards of my other neighbors. For me, that was good enough.

As time passed Mr Dean started to brag just a little bit about his prized window box. My response was a smile or laughter (as he was quite comical) but I never gave any sign of taking action. Finally, Mr Dean had enough. He came to the end of his walkway (with one hand on his hip) and said or rather hollered, "GIRL, YOU NEED TO PLANT SOMETHING!". He went on to say that my grandmother always kept her house nice on the outside because it sat on the corner.  He demanded that I get busy. After his gentle nudging turned into a tongue lashing, I was basically pushed into planting. Mr Dean passed away that same year but I continued to plant. It wasn't until my third year of trying that I really got the hang of things.  My flower bed is currently robust with color and a true delight. Passersby often comment on how nice my corner looks which makes me feel so good. 

Every now and then my eyes journey across the street to Mr Dean's old house and the now empty window box. At those times, I thank Mr Dean for the beauty that he left behind because he really used his window box to inspire something wonderful in me. When I sit on my steps these days, I beam with pride.