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The first house we purchased was advertised as a "handyman special." The house sat on a corner lot about two blocks from the downtown area. The house and yard were beyond neglected, and the neighborhood was a nightmare of its former version. Even during the day, we could see drug dealers at the other end of the block. We bought the house, despite all of the drawbacks, since it was the only one we could find within our price range and because I fell in love with the idea of having my very own yard, one in which I could plant a vegetable garden.

The day after we moved into the house, there was a knock at the front door. As I peered out, I saw a small welcoming committee comprised of two little old ladies and an elderly gentleman.

My husband called from the other room, "Who is it?"

"I don't know, the neighbors, maybe." I replied. My husband put down his tools, and came to the front door to see for himself.

As I opened the door, they said in unison, "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Oh my, what a surprise, I didn't expect anything like this. Thank you," I responded as the elderly gentleman placed a large plastic bag into my arms that was filled with fresh vegetables from his garden. They introduced themselves as Mrs. Lovverlorn, Mrs. McCaulla and Mr. Brazewell.

"Well," Mrs. McCaulla said, "I know that many young people don't carry on traditions like this anymore, but we are old and set in our ways. You know, at one time this used to be a nice little neighborhood, and you young people give us hope that it could be that way again. We hope that you will be as happy here as we have been for all of these years." The other two members of the welcoming committee smiled and nodded their heads in agreement.

Looking at Mrs. Lovverlorn, the eldest and smallest of the committee, and the one who lived right next door to us, my husband said, "I am sure that we will be, but . . . " he looked at her sternly, "you don't throw a bunch of wild parties that will keep me up late every night, playing your stereo loud and such, do you? Because we like it quiet, you know."

At first Mrs. Lovverlorn just looked shocked, "Who, me? No, no," she stammered, and then realizing that he was teasing with her, she began to blush and giggle. In that moment we all bonded.

Upon learning that Mr. Brazewell had been a farmer by trade, I overheard my husband tell him, "My wife has a green thumb, she plants a garden every year." And, I could see him eyeing me up and down.

Embarrassed, I interrupted with, "Well now,

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