The Kellers

My grandparent's neighbors further down Autumn Drive, the Kellers, seemed like nice people. They were younger than my grandparents by many years, but their children had long since moved away, making them pretty old by my account. They always kept their yard looking trimmed and neat. Mulched flower beds, painted wooden wells, in the backyard near the woods, in line with their screened in porch, an ocean-themed shed, complete with giant, fake anchors and little brown nets hanging like spider webs on the side of the little gray building.

Mr. Keller and Pop Pop would talk often at the border of the property, at the backside of the garden, under the pine tree, along the walkway to the back yard. They always seemed to talk about the same old things: how the garden was doing that year, how bad the bugs were, how often the squirrels stole from the pear tree or the rabbits ate from the green beans, and how hot the days were, especially with the humidity.

Pop Pop told me once about a time before I was born. Mr. Keller came over and asked for advice on what to do with the water problem in his back yard. Every time it rained, his backyard became a mud hole. The rain, along with the septic tank, wasn't working together to make a satisfactory backyard.

"I told him to go ahead and get a couple loads of dirt, " Pop Pop described. "Raise up the yard a bit."

It made sense and apparently worked. Mr. Keller never had a problem since. The story explained why, at the back of their yard, the ground dropped a couple feet in elevation as it leveled out with the woods. Pop Pop recalled the story fondly. It seemed to me he was glad he though of a way to fix their problem, glad he could help.