On days like today, she missed her yard and garden at the farm so badly she had to breathe carefully. Yes, moving here had a been a wise choice, yes, she was pleased most of the time, but with no grass to go barefoot in, no chickens clucking, birds singing in her trees, somehow digging in her pots did not equal digging in the earth. She had yet to find angle worms in the pots. Her garden soil had been full of worms and compost and years of loving care. Perhaps she should dig some out at Ginny’s, just for the good of her pots, of course.

Memories flooded her of raising her two daughters and one son to appreciate homegrown fruit and vegetables, and eggs from their hens, the beauty of God’s amazing earth, and that if you wanted to eat, you had to do the work. And now they were all living too far away to have daily or even weekly visits. Thank God for the Internet so they could all keep in touch, even if it was not face-to-face. True, the kids had invited her to live with them, but so far, she had resisted.

Her youngest lived in an apartment out in Seattle. She didn’t mind the rain but Amalia shuddered at the thought of all the gray days. The son lived in Madison now, and who wanted to ride a bike in a busy city like that? And Marie…no. Just no. There would be too much friction.

Marie still harbored hard feelings about her selling the homestead. Not that relatives had homesteaded the land or anything, but somehow through the years, “the homestead” stuck. This was the second year Marie’s girls could not come spend summer weeks with Grandma on the farm.

A grumble snort caught her attention. She glanced down to see the now-relaxed cat beside her.

“I know, Jehoshaphat, my mind took off all by its lonesome. Got sad news for you—time for me to get myself downstairs to meet Fred. You behave yourself, hear?” She picked up the monster-sized cat, set him on the sofa back in the living room after closing the screen, debated closing the sliding door, and opted for the fresh air instead.

Picking up her basket, which held her cell phone, her current ball of yarn to add rows to the lap robe for the senior center, the recipe she’d promised Ginny, her sunglasses, the small pack of licorice for Fred, biscuits for Spook, and her ever-present bottle of water, she bade Jehoshaphat behave himself and clicked the door behind her. She had made sure she had the door key in her pocket, just like she automatically lifted the current hat from the rack beside the door and clamped it on her head. That the doors locked automatically was not a selling feature to her. Hers was propped open with a painted rock most of the time she was home.

“Attractive hat,” Fred said by way of greeting as he held the truck door open for Amalia.