Carly
“Mom,” I called, walking down the hallway.
I padded through the house on socked feet, popping my head into every room.
“I’m out back, honey,” my mom called, and I walked through the kitchen to the back door. My mom was outside, kneeling in what looked like a vegetable garden.
“Oh, this is nice,” I said, stepping into the late afternoon sun. The wind had picked up, and with it came a chill that suggested it wasn’t summer anymore. “I didn’t know you had veggies out here.”
My mom laughed. “It’s just a hobby. I like puttering around in the garden, and it’s such a good feeling if I see the fruit of my labor.” She laughed again. “Almost literally.”
I sat down on the two steps that led down from the back door and watched my mom weed the vegetable garden, carefully removing the harmful
