My neighbor let her dog use my lawn as a toilet every morning for six months and never cleaned up once — I stayed polite until she made one comment I couldn’t forget, and by the next morning I’d taught her a lesson without raising my voice once.

took far more patience than I expected.

They bloom blue, white, and sometimes a dusty purple that I have spent years trying to reproduce.

Every July, when they are at their best, I stand there and think they may be the most beautiful thing I have ever created with my own hands.

The front lawn belongsmostly to the children.

Tom handles the mowing.

I handle everything else.

Aerating.

Feeding.

Overseeding.

Repairing the same worn patches where the kids insist on playing over and over again.

Then there are the flower beds along the house.

Those took me two full seasons to get right because the drainage was terrible.

I spent hours on my knees in that dirt until things finally began growing the way I wanted.

I love that yard.

Not because it is perfect.

Because I made it slowly.

Marguerite knew that.

She had