A few streets down from where I live, lived a very old man, all alone.I never saw a car at his house when I daily walked by.I talked to him a few times but he wasn't really interested in conversation. He must have been what you call a hermit. Every Spring he would hang out all his clothes on the wash line, giving them an air,after being stuck in a closet all winter.I enjoyed seeing him do that. It reminded me of olden days, airing our blankets. Once in awhile I saw the old man ride a bike to get groceries. And then one day, he was gone. He didn't come to get his mail from his mailbox across the street. Neighbors went into the house to see about him. He had fallen down the stairs, perhaps from a heart attack, and passed away. The house has been empty now for 8 years. Creatures live in it..possums, and raccoons. The bushes have overgrown so you can barely see the house. Yet each year as I walk by,I check to see what is peeping out from the long grass. Lilies, yes, and roses which the old man had planted. But other flowers which he had not planted. Those are what I look for.The Wildflowers.Each year the Wildflowers still grow!
