Katherine Nicolai

Not just to gather flowers, but to check on the house.

I wanted to see it in different seasons.

To watch the leaves fall from its ancient poplar trees.

In winter, I wanted to see how the snow lay on the roof.

Once, after a heavy rain, I came to see if the creek had risen over its banks.

And it had, just by a bit.

And the sound of the rushing water was louder than I'd ever heard it.

Then, a couple lilac seasons back,

I was out with my basket when I finally bumped into someone.

A kind, older woman with her hair tied in a scarf and the top down on her car.

I'd been caught purple-handed and she chuckled from the drive.

Red-faced, I owned up to my thievery and apologized.

But she insisted it made her happy to know the blooms weren't going to waste.

She'd inherited the old place and couldn't use it herself.

Did I know of anyone?

who might be interested in buying.

I smiled as I thought about that day now.

It had been a long road, but the house had come back to life.

Renovations and repairs, fresh plaster and paint.

I stood in my garden clogs,