Crimson.

Waiting for my car to be smog checked, I stoop to collect heart-shaped leaves from the sidewalk. I didn’t select this particular

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Digging.

Stabbing at the hardpan soil like the madwoman I surely am, tears stream down my cheeks as I endure another episode of “what-am-I-doing-with-my-life”

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Volunteers.

My plant-knowledgeable neighbor texts to alert me to the hostile occupation happening in my front yard: “Those invasive elms are noxious,”

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  © Cheryl Leutjen