One of the things I remember about my fraternal grandmother was the large flower beds of pansies that she kept neatly around her house. Under her watchful eye I was allowed to bring mulch in my red wagon when she was working in these riotous beds of colors; taking care not to misstep and trample the blooms of spring.Often, this mulch came from a compost pile that she kept well supplied with potato peels and egg shells just behind the pumphouse for the well. I dug big fat worms, excellent for catching tasty bream in one of the ponds, from this magical compost heap also. The good, rich earth gives many things to those who give it what it needs.All this make-work on warm spring mornings gave me something positive to do and kept me out of the mischief that only a five-year-old boy can dream up in his boredom and idleness. A wise grandmother knows well what grandsons are capable of. Yes, I remember these things.
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