Ellen padded her way out onto the front porch. Her arms weren’t as tanned this year, she thought as she eased her tired body into her rocking chair. A look at the weeds growing in her garden explained why.
“We sure loved working in the garden together, didn’t we, James?” Her husband had been taken by a stroke just after planting, and Ellen just didn’t have the passion she felt when the two worked together, and the growing weeds were a testament.
The sun was setting and light was streaming across the meadow and her garden. Goldfinches were busily flying from one thistle to another, eating the seeds.
Once full of bees, butterflies, and flowers, now in fall, it was a garden of bird seed. The birds were entertaining as they would flutter and hang upside down to get to the seed.
Ellen’s thoughts returned to James. They had grown up during the depression, a time when the only way you had anything was to be willing to work for it.
As she watched the birds, she returned to that time – life was hard, but rewarding – and she wondered if the birds eating from her meadow weren’t better off than ones being fed from a feeder.