“Let me ask Daryl. He’s been wanting to talk with Fred.”

“Fred wondered if you’d like to meet us for dinner after our doctor’s appointments in a few weeks. But maybe we could all go to the Purple Rooster for an early-bird dinner this Friday instead.” She could hear MJ and Daryl talking.

“Yes to the dinner and yes to the plants. How about later this afternoon to pick them up?”

“Good. Fred is on his way to pick up shavings for the chicken house. Sure is handy buying that in bales. See you later.” Ginny set a variety of tomato plants on one of the flats, added some flowers, and turned to the matching pots that always stood beside the front door.

They had the Fondy Flowers nursery fill all their hanging baskets every year, a unique service provided by her favorite nursery in the whole world, right near Fond du Lac. They would pick those up as soon as the frost was gone. So many things hinged on that magical date.

While she planted and potted whenever she could, Fred religiously gardened according to the routine of the old-timers who planted by the moon and the calendar. The produce from his garden fed their son’s family and half the neighborhood, besides all the two of them could can, freeze, and dry. Fred, especially, liked running the food dryer.

Like always, she totally lost track of time in the greenhouse, until she heard the truck drive in. Could it be lunchtime already? She stepped back to study the two big pots, nodding as she looked them over. When the grasses grew taller in the middle, the sweet potato vine trailed over the sides, and the coleus branched out, they should look about right. Every year she tried to add something different, and this year it was a new kind of coleus and the New Zealand begonias. She’d leave the pots in the greenhouse for a week or so to let the roots start growing, then harden them off in the shaded area under the elm tree. She grabbed her gardening diary, made sure the vents were open to keep the temp from climbing too much, and headed for the house. That same design would do well in the big pots by the church doors and she would have plenty of plants to do them. The thought of throwing growing plants away because she had no more room to plant them was anathema. But some years it happened. One year several of the tomato plants went ahead and grew in the compost heap when she tried to dispose of them.

Spook came bouncing out to meet her, as if he’d been gone for days. “I know, boy, you are sorry you deserted me, but face it, you would rather go for a ride in the truck with Dad than just about anything else.” She took his proffered stick and threw it down the driveway. “Except that.”

“Jason said to tell you hello and asked if you had any extra tomatoes.” Fred was setting plates and silver on the table. “Unless you’d rather eat outside?”