As we walked down the deck steps I noticed she was right -- everything was overgrown, and it was beautiful, magical even. The overgrown trees with their unchecked canopy shaded the yard, plants and bushes sent their scraggly branches in a desperate search for the the sun, and the lawn reduced to a mowed path that encircled the garden. Even the weeds were luscious and green. We stood in the garden for a good while pointing out trees, bushes and plants to Paul telling stories of where and when, and remembering.
I wouldn't change one thing.