Tootie McDaniels performs her autumn gardening, as her neighbors rightly do too, displaying talents in adjacent lots, acting out their morality plays on the Master Gardeners’ method to compost the vegetable garden remains, on the wise and prudent manner to attack ruthless, invasive blackberry canes, on spading and tilling techniques of fall in preparation for the glories of next spring.

It is this latter work that tires her out, prepping the soil around the hostas and bleeding hearts and the lettuce beds. In the warming sun of the waning afternoon she strolls to the remaining piece of outdoor furniture, lying down for a quick rest on her faded blue canvas chaise lounge. She muses, “This chair was once cornflower blue — back when Mom bought it.”