My folks had angels aboard their Chevy--flat tires in Indiana were repaired roadside by a trucker and his disabled son. When their trusty Impala was stolen outside an inner city church, the priest drove them home.
At dusk on Sunday, when my mother and I would have together inspected the growth of the week, I had some zone pushing of my own to do. With the help of friends, family and the solace of nature, I will try to do just that. After all, I am my father's daughter.