I opened the door late this morning and was greeted with a burst of hot and humid August air. Breathing the heavy air, I strolled down the driveway, with dogs in tow.

The dogs guided me to the flower bed for a sniff and a pee. It came into view. I drew closer and wondered why Tim would leave a pile of weeds in front of the flower bed.

The flash bulb ignites. The weeds are two feet long, trimmed at the base with pruning shears and covered with large burrs. I know for a fact, nothing like that was in the flower beds and it is too hot for Tim to venture out, let alone pull weeds. Another flash, I have cleaned up piles of weeds in the same spot, twice before. I figured Tim, struck by the weed pulling bug, left each pile for later clean-up.

I find it odd and share the discovery with Tim. He then shares the story at the water cooler. “Oh dear”, his co-worker replies, “you know it’s a ‘sign’ from the neighbors”.

“A what, a ‘sign’ you say?”, Tim asks.

“Why of course”, she replies. “You’re yard does not meet expectations and a neighbor is sending you a ‘sign’.”

Tim recounts the tale and my temper flares. “What NERVE!” I retort, “utterly rude and unneighborly”

I chewed on the situation during my train ride into the city. My anger subsided and my heart filled with sadness. Not for myself, but for the person who left the weeds. It is a ‘sign’, I thought. A ‘sign’ of an empty, superficial soul that values appearances more than substance and where you can greet your neighbor with a smile, then deliver a bouquet of thorns as a welcome gift.

I took few minutes before going to bed to give thanks for my blessings: a loving spouse, fantastic family and friends, an interesting job (part of the time anyway), and many other wonderful experiences. I send out thoughts of forgiveness and love. Perhaps one day, our new florist’s sadness will be replaced with joy.

Till then, I graciously accept any bouquet of nature’s wonders you leave me.