1The empty lot on Birch Street had been waiting all spring. Weeds poked through the cracked pavement, and a rusted gate leaned against the fence. Mei stood at the edge and squinted. "We could fit at least six beds in there," she said. Sam rolled forward and
2studied the space. "Eight," he said, "if we put two along the fence." They were both right. They drew it on paper that evening, sitting at Sam's kitchen table with crayons and a ruler, arguing cheerfully about which end should face the sun. On Saturday morning,
3the whole block seemed to arrive at once. Neighbors brought shovels, seedlings wrapped in damp newspaper, and thermoses of tea. Two parents lifted the first wooden frame into place while Mei held the measuring tape taut. Sam kept the plans clipped to a board
4in his lap, calling out the measurements whenever anyone needed them. "Forty-eight inches wide," he reminded them, "so everyone can reach the middle." The raised beds went up one by one. They were exactly the right height — level with Sam's armrests,
5comfortable for a grandmother who stood with a cane, easy for Mei to lean over. A girl from the yellow house carried water in a long-spouted can, walking slowly so nothing sloshed. An older boy pushed the full watering cart for Sam along the smooth path they had
6laid with flat stones. Sam tilted the cart's spout himself and watched the soil darken around the tomato roots. Mei's grandmother pressed sunflower seeds into the earth the way her own grandmother had shown her — three fingers deep, two seeds together, so
7one could help the other. She did not explain this out loud. She simply showed Mei her hands, and Mei nodded and did the same. For the herb bed, a neighbor made small labels out of craft sticks and cut different shapes into them — a circle for mint, a star for basil,
8a smooth oval for thyme. That way, anyone could tell the plants apart just by running a thumb along the marker. By early afternoon, the sun was strong. People found shade in twos and threes, passing around sliced oranges. Sam parked beside the water barrel
9and drank slowly. Mei sat on the ground next to his wheel, her boots still muddy, and they looked at what eight raised beds looked like when they were full of dark soil and small green beginnings. A sparrow landed on the fence post, then flew off again. Mei pulled
10a last seed packet from her pocket. "Beans," she said. "Those go in yours," said Sam. She pushed back to her feet and walked to the bed at the sunny end — the one they had agreed on back at the kitchen table, when the garden was still only crayons and a good idea.
