My neighbor let her dog use my lawn as a toilet every morning for six months and never cleaned up once — Kertati I stayed polite until she made one comment I couldn’t forget, and by the next morning I’d taught her a lesson without raising my voice once.

Then there are the flower beds along the house.

Those took me two full seasons to get right because the drainage was terrible.

I spent hours on my knees in that dirt until things finally began growing the way I wanted.

I love that yard.

Not because it is perfect.

Because I made it slowly.

Marguerite knew that.

She had watched me work on it for years.

She moved in two years after we did.

She arrived in a rented truck with an astonishing amount of decorative furniture and a sister who helped unload everything and was rarely seen again.

Marguerite was somewhere in her late fifties, elegant in a deliberate sort of way.

Silver-streaked hair usually pinned neatly back.

Silk blouses.

Carefully chosen jewelry.
She had lived alone long enough to develop very particular opinions about how life around her should operate.

At first, she was a perfectly decent neighbor.

We exchanged packages.

I gave her extra tomatoes in summer.

We waved from our driveways.

Sometimes we spoke for a few minutes about ordinary things.

She occasionally attended neighborhood events and always brought something slightly nicer than everyone else.

She complimented my garden often.

Although eventually I noticed that her compliments were usually questions.