By Sarah R. Moore
Ever since I learned to stand on my own two feet, I’ve been walking up and down a particular hill in the city where I was born. This hill, which happens to be on a university campus, is one of my special places in life. I now live thousands of miles from it, but anytime I can return “home,” I retrace my footsteps there. When the hill isn’t covered in wintertime snow, its green grass is so soft and pristine that nearly everyone who has time to lie down on it, does.
Although it’s steep, it’s less than half a mile from top to bottom. At the top of the hill are flowers; lots of red and white flowers to represent the university’s colors.
For the first time today-many years after I took my first baby steps on campus-I saw a woman planting those flowers. In all my years of looking at them, I never thought about the effort someone makes to put them there. They’ve been an ever-present part of the scenery, like the trees and the grass itself.
However, as it turns out, the flowers require a fair amount of work. The gardener took at least a few minutes to meticulously remove each plant from its respective pot and gently dig and prepare the soil for planting. Finally, when all the preparations were complete, she could embed the flower in its new home. It wasn’t a quick process.