Hope springs eternal

Our house is in the middle of a hill between two wetlands, and for years it that seemed as the snow melted each spring it ran down the hill and seeped up into our basement. After last spring, when it took eight kind neighbors and me five hours to empty the entire soggy basement while the dad was on a work trip, we realized we needed a plan. That fall we decided the way to keep water out of our basement each spring was to re-grade part of our backyard and replace our deck.

We drew up a modest little deck with a small expansion, painstakingly got city approval, and had lumber and a bobcat delivered. he only way to get the bobcat into the backyard, without destroying the aforementioned kind neighbors' lawn, was to drive through one of our side gardens.

The very prettiest garden I had. The one that people out on walks stop and ask about. My pride and joy. Fine. I stood in the garden and guarded the heirloom peonies, originally from my grandma's house, that I had already moved to three different houses. (We wrote it into the purchase agreements.) Everything was squashed.

Earlier this spring a few bulbs came up amidst the gravel and tire tracks. Just the other day I noticed a few other green things. Hope springs eternal...