A room full of people had seen what the garden meant, but no one had changed the law by watching a beautiful morning unfold.

Dad came inside with a bucket of beans and found me staring at the notice.

“You are worried again,” he observed.

“Somebody has to be.

Wayne was moved, but the zoning board is not a church congregation.

They are not going to vote with their hearts because forty people came to pick tomatoes.”

“That is why we should give them something better than a speech,” Dad replied.

“What would that be?”