Later in the summer, everyone enjoyed the fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplants, zucchinis, string beans, and cantaloupes. My mother loved the cut Zinnias that decorated her favorite vase, and my father never noticed the missing turf. I was triumphant; my designs had worked.
"I just need a few more square yards." I muttered aloud. I had selected some insect-repelling plants and flowers to surround the vegetables and without that extra space, I could not use them.
"I only need to remove about a foot of the grass around the edge." I pleaded, as if my father could hear me. I knew what he would say if I asked him, "Make good with what you have. I told you that from the beginning."
Just inches from where the silent bird hovered, I watched in awe. Suddenly, I knew that I was more than an observer; I belonged in the garden too - somehow I knew there was a bond between all living things. From the tiny seeds that Ihad planted, the blooming flowers attracted the hummingbird. And, like the bird, the flowers had attracted me. I felt connected to a magnificent world.