I had been living in my new home in Washington State for a few months. Settled in, I began the clean up of the yard and started forming preliminary plans for the gardens. I  knew I must begin to plant soon, a late start, as spring was well along, summer a blink away.

The neighborhood here is marvelous, all my new neighbors have such nice landscaped yards and lovely gardens. Best of all, are the neighbors themselves, every one of them are friendly, helpful, and generous. We have block parties to celebrate retirements, anniversaries and Independence day and have enormous neighborhood yard sales to raise money for those who have a temporary financial burden. You get the picture; peaceful, safe and welcoming, idyllic really.  Well... except for one thing or I should say one neighbor...there always has to be one bad apple it seems.

Charlie Biddleston, is a grumpy, unfriendly gnarled old man, bent in the middle of his slight frame, (doubtless painfully so) by some, nasty arthritic condition. Charlie lives five houses up the street from me in a nice Cape Cod style home. He has no wife, no family comes calling on him and no pets that I could see. His gray hair has has not seen a barber in a long while (nor a comb for that matter), he has permanent white stubble on the end of his chin. Charlie wears an ancient pair of faded green overalls when putting around in his gardens his lace up boots are saggy from wear. Oh! but Charlie's gardens are so very beautiful! He has plants I never knew existed! Old fashioned vine roses and every bulb flowering in bright rainbow colors splash the scene; planted in half barrels, they remind me of bowls of Fruit Loops.

Charlie has constructed many structures to serve in his landscape that seem decidedly out of place for a crotchety old coot. Many of his structures are surprisingly romantic and just downright lovely. For instance, there is a a delightful stone path that meanders lazily through English-style garden beds from the front yard to the back. Near the center of his large rear lot, Charlie's path branches off in differing (east/west) directions. One branch leads to a little water feature where song birds often splash about, while the other leads to the entrance of the prettiest Gazebo I have ever seen. Fragrant Honeysuckle climbs the lattice-work on both sides of the gazebo entrance, then spreads over the domed roof top.

Farther back, snug in the far-most corner a three sided, redwood grape arbor encloses a lovely patio it s roof is also redwood cut to 1x1" and nailed 2" apart. The arbor roof, obviously not functional insofar as weather protection. instead it allows the lucky garden visitor to pluck the delicious grapes in season. The silent beauty of those vines loaded with grapes which hang invitingly from above and perfectly matching the green-flecked stonework of the patio floor.

Soft and delicate Irish Moss grows in the spaces between the stones. A lovely, lacy, iron-work table painted white with two matching chairs set across the table from the other defies the impression that Charlie is always the loner. Ornamental grasses in soft pastels dot the landscape here and there, lending a peaceful atmosphere and adding to the romantic feel of the magical garden, Everywhere your eyes focus, in Charlie's creation with nature, you will see plants you want to get your hands on for your own garden, unusual varieties of bushes, trees, flowers even vegetables and fruit. Butterflies abound and hummingbirds zip about. Of all the houses I walk by, on my evening walk, Charlie's is my favorite.

It had to have been some naughty garden fairy who dared me to sneak in to investigate. Yes! that was it, a fairy  dared me to do what I am ashamed of, to this day, of doing. Ashamed perhaps, however, not to the extent of regret.

It wasn't as if I didn't try to warm up to Charlie, he just wouldn't have any of it. As I passed other neighbors some would wave and smile, others would invite me in for ice tea, some would just tell me how nice my place was looking or discuss this plant or that tree. But not Charlie, I would nod and smile, if he happened to look up as I passed but Charlie would simply ignore me. One evening, I stopped and said to his back "You garden is so lovely, it must have taken you years of hard work...." He did not stop what he was doing, did not even turn around to acknowledge me. I began to think he was just very hard of hearing. I began again, but this time very loudly; "YOUR GARDEN IS LOVELY, IT MUST HAVE TAKEN..." He cut me off this time, not so much as turning to face me, he said, his voice gruff and menacing; "Yeah, yeah, yeah! I heard you the first time, now move along, I've got things I'm doing here!"  I was mortified, "Well I am soooo sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Grumpy Green Jeans" I thought to myself, miffed and embarrassed all at once. Instead, I said; "Oh pardon me, I should have noticed you were busy"  "Humph!" was his curt reply to that.

It occurred to me, in that moment, that I would not ever have the opportunity to stroll through Charlie's garden, let alone, ask him for a cutting or two, or inquire as to where he found the unusual Hostas, or ask if he might allow me to take just a few seeds here and there. I had blown it with him, indeed, it seemed like perma-frost covered him the next time I walked by.

As I lay in bed one night less than week later, thinking about how much I wanted to take a stroll upon Charlie's garden path, temptation just overtook me. I could not wrap my brain around what I was about to do next. I carefully dressed in dark clothes like a thief who has been long into her craft. I found a large old black purse that was in the box, headed for donation, to the local thrift store. I was suddenly glad I still had the fashion failure because it was perfect for the "Job", its ridiculously long shoulder strap hung securely around my neck bringing the bag opening to my waist for easy deposit of my intended "take". Yes, I was thinking like a Cat Burglar and looking like one too, I imagined.

It was late, past 1:AM when I stealthily took to the moonlit street and crept my way toward Charlie's place. Once there; I carefully opened the pretty ironwork gate entrance to the front yard,which to my relief, did not utter a squeak to announce my arrival, thereby, giving my dirty deed away.

I do not know how long I was there, tiptoeing and snipping, pilfering seeds and simply enjoying the fragrance and beauty in his garden in the shadowy light of a ice colored moon. There was no sign of light or movement  from within the house, so I boldly took my time. I was carefull to take cuttings where they would not be noticed and seeds from fallen seed pods. One would have thought this sneaky, after-hour thievery was a common pastime of mine; so skilled as I was at it!

Later at home I giddily examined my stolen goods and, oddly,felt no remorse.I had rationalizations for every seed and every cutting I had taken in the moon's only light. It never occurred to me what I would tell neighbors, should they ask, where I had found this plant or that flower, I was just happy I had not been caught.

The next morning, as I headed for the door to go to work, I noticed a envelope had been slid under the front door. It was large and square shaped like the type you get a greeting card in. I smiled, thinking it was from my neighbor directly across from me, thanking me for the large pan of Blueberry Crisp I had taken to her family the day before.

"Just like her to send me a card"  I thought. I opened the envelope and found, not a card, but a neatly folded sheet of regular notebook paper. I pulled it out, unfolded it and began to read a handwritten poem inside.

As I finished the first three lines, my face began to feel hot and I am certain it was fire-engine red. The following is the poem sent to me:

Roses are red

Violets blue

 snipping in my garden

I know it was you

Camellias are pink

Daffodils yellow

saw you swiping seeds

From an ornery old fellow

Poppies are orange

Dog Flowers white

You there in my garden

by the pale moonlight

Roses are red

Violets blue

Glad you like my garden

because it likes you

 My bright red face turned to pink and warm tears fell from my eyes. I hugged the poem to my chest and decided in that moment, that work today would have to wait. I had someone to call on with a plate of blueberry crisp and a bag of homemade tea to share; somethings are just more important than others.

I have been living in this neighborhood for a little over two years now, I love all my neighbors to pieces. But I have this favorite, if I'm honest, he is still kinda grumpy but I like him just the way he is. He laughs at me sometimes because I get so excited when I discover, yet another, breathtaking flower or plant in his lovely landscape. Once I kissed him on the forehead as I was leaving with a handful of fresh cuttings. He said "Oh, now what did you go and do that for?"  as he wiped the kiss from his brow. I laughed all the way home.