My happiness bloomed

Yesterday morning I was standing on my front porch, taking a momentary break from my yard work and long Saturday to-do list to look out at the neighborhood.  As is the case on every beautiful Saturday morning in May, the street was bustling with a flurry of lawn mowing, weed pulling, tree trimming, kid playing and errand running.  I glanced across the way and noticed my sweet older neighbor situating herself on the sidewalk in front of her house, just beginning the task of planting her front flowerbed.  I could tell she was uncomfortable on the hard cement as the rhythm of dig, shift, dig, shift continued during the minute I watched her.  I almost let the moment slide, intent on finishing my own set of chores, when I felt the prick of my conscience tell me to cross the street with a trowel in my hand.  I approached her and told her I had a set of hands to add to hers, and side by side, together, we had that flowerbed planted in no time.  Yesterday my happiness bloomed in a flower garden.

My neighbor's house from my front porch