If we were bored on summer days,
my cousin Sue and I would bike
to Grandma's house around the lake,
on bumpy trails, a six-mile hike.

When we arrived, she'd always say,
"Can use the help, girls. Glad you're here.
The garden needs some gentle hands.
Too much to do alone this year.

"Sue, take these scissors, snip the heads
of drooping daisies, lilies, too.
Such pretty things, but seen their day.
You'll make more room for growth that's new.

"And, Melanie, you come with me.
The trellises require your touch.
Please reattach that rambling rose
and prune the vines that rove too much.

"Begonias and my zinnias
as you can see are thriving now.
But so's that broadleaf burdock, too.
We'll dig it out. I'll show you how."

She never scolded, often beamed
and we took pride in working hard.
Her garden flourished into fall,
none prettier, no grander yard.