Before Jason and I could slip out the front door the previous evening, Patricia had roped us into gathering with the few remaining attendees in the living room to reminisce about Carla, not that I had much to offer. By the time we left, it had been too late to stop by Erin’s place. Instead, I had gone home to bed, questions about Miguel, Erin, and Carla whirling around in my head. Now, as I drove out to the farm the next morning, I thought about the coming workday. I’d seen Zennia in the garden recently, practically rubbing her hands in anticipation of the peppers, tomatoes, and zucchini that would soon be flourishing. Plenty of other people liked to garden, so I’d focus today’s blog on growing summer vegetables. I pulled into the mostly empty parking lot and drove past the lobby. The flock of ducks basked in the early morning sunshine, while a trio waddled across the grass. I parked in my usual corner spot and took the long way past the cabins and along the back trail, stopping to say good morning to Wilbur and his pals.
