38 CHARLOTTE MILLER
October 30
Sitting on my heels, I leaned over the flower bed in front of the old Victorian house. I had pulled my hair into a messy bun and could feel the sun on the back of my neck, though the crisp fall air was cool enough to send shivers down my spine. Should I run in and grab a sweater? Nah, this won’t take long.
Pulling on my gloves, I reached for the spade and the pallet of violas I bought at the nursery this morning. Perhaps some gardening would help me de-stress. I hadn’t felt like myself in a while, and I thought some fresh air might take the edge off.
As I dug into the soil, I scooped the earth and placed it to the side. The dark granules clung to my gloves, obscuring their colorful daisy print, but I was unbothered. I closed my eyes and drew in several de
