One of the most precious parts of my life on Countryside Drive was time spent in my garden. Digging, weeding, planting, watering--changing the colors, repeating the colors--finding what flourished, what shriveled and died, what small seedling in the middle of a flower bed would turn into a delicious tomato plant. Each new season brought beauty and wonder and heartache and hope. My trumpet vine grew for years with lush vigor, but never bloomed until the year I moved--then I had to leave it.

Sometimes I would find new mysterious plantings in vacant spaces. Then I knew that the elderly and eccentric Nita had been dividing her perennials. She couldn't bear to throw away a good plant. Thus my Japanese iris are still with me, surviving the move to the open spaces of Batavia. Sun and wind are abundant and for two weeks in late May-early June, my iris are glorious. They thrive next to my fence, in my garden, as I do.