Ms. Gardner

At dusk, by the beloved enchanted cemetery in dear key west, we find this beautiful elderly woman sweeping the leaves and flowers from the sidewalk in front of her house. We spy her riding by, walking our dogs, wandering...we admire her. She is extremely diligent in her task. On several occasions I have stopped to say hello, and she recognized me but was busy, and let me know gardening was 'hard work'. I scampered off but henceforth always kept her in mind on evening bike rides/lookabouts.

The Royal Poinciana have been blooming, madly. Oh delight! Oh absolute glory and godliness! Hallelujah!

These elegant, fecund trees shed petals and flowers constantly. I introduce myself to the hero of this story, sweeping up Royal Poinciana droppings in front of her house a few nights ago. She is feeling chatty.

Ms. Gardner (!) was born here and has lived here 81 years. I'd like to come by with a broom and help her sweep and she says, 'no thanks, this is my exercise.' But I can hang out, if I'd like, and talk. She is fit and pleasantly blunt. She tells me about the Poinciana which she loves, but is a lot of work. About the Indian Almond, a 3 story tree with foot-long oval leaves, which entices many a passer-by. It was planted by her uncle, when he was in high school for a friend a few years elder than him who died in world war one. We recorded the story, of him and his friends, how they loved this schoolmate and buddy who passed away, how they carried buckets of water each day as the tree grew from a mere twig. And look at it now, massive, glorious. And look at her. And here we are.

Indian Almond