I first got to know her when, escaping from the confines of our garden through the front gate being left accidentally open, I ventured down the street...and reaching Mrs.Grace’s house I was attracted by her garden. Looking through the wooden bars of her garden gate, I saw, not an orderly, highly drilled garden, but a wild sort of place. I do not mean that her garden was a mess or littered with garbage, but it was laid out to give the impression that it was as nature intended, and not a human. . More mom than big sister.”“Okay — the exit is here. Take the ramp and turn left.”“Aye-aye, captain,” she replied.She made the turn on to a local highway. They drove through a small village along the way. “Wow — look at the houses with picket fences ... This looks like territory that time forgot — like we ran through a time warp and are in the nineteen fifties.”“Yeah — this part of the county is just like Leave it to Beaver ... except without the affluence. Up ahead where the road splits, go. More

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