“What are we doing?” I asked, withdrawing my eyes and inspecting the flower bed in front of us. It was crammed with succulents of all shapes and colors and sizes. They were woven together like stitches on a tapestry. Swooping patterns and swirls, like a living work of art.

“I need to reorganize this bed. It’s time for a change.” And then, without warning, she grabbed the plants and started yanking them out of the soil.

“Uh . . . wait!” I said automatically. “Aren’t you going to kill them?” I was shocked, as she looked at me, clutching handfuls of succulents, their roots dangling like little nooses. Some of their leaves had fallen off and were now lying on the dirt.

“Nope. It’s the great thing about succulents. You can be rough with them. They’re basically indestructible.”

“Really?” I inspected the plants. It was hard to imagine that these were indestructible. That any plants were indestructible and that we could be this rough with them.

“Looks can be deceiving.” She raised her thick, high-arched brows at me. “They’re stronger than they look.” She pulled another one out of the ground. “Go for it. Take some out. Just pull. Or use your spade, whatever.” She pointed at the gray, rose-shaped plants in front of us. I reached out slowly and was just about to pull one when I stopped.

“Sorry, why are we doing this?”

“Would you rather be sitting inside on the couch?”

I glanced back over my shoulder at the cottage behind me, and then turned back to the flower bed, the powder-blue sky, Table Mountain, and the huge clouds that rolled over it, draping the mountain in a white tablecloth. “No. It’s nice here.” I reached for the spade but stopped myself again.

“Are you sure you’re a real therapist?” I looked her up and down. She certainly didn’t look like one, with her fire engine red hair glinting in the sun.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“That was a very therapist answer.”

“And how does that make you feel, Lori?” she asked playfully, and then chuckled.

“Fine!” We laughed together. I reached into the flower bed and sank my spade into the soil. I began to raise the soil when something caught my eye.

“Oh no! I think I cut it in half.” I watched as a poor earthworm writhed frantically in the soil.

Dr. Stride leaned in. “Ag, don’t worry. They’re just as resilient as these plants. It should regenerate its tail.”

“Really?” I picked the worm up gently with my spade and put it to one side.