This afternoon I have dirt under my fingers. It’s because of my son. He’s 16 and he loves pottering around the garden. I’ve always loved the garden but have too short an attention span to give it the kind of love it needs to thrive. But my son is different. He loves to potter around, planting and replanting. He’s always been like that even when he was a toddler. All the old people we know give him plants now. He notices things in the yard that the rest of us miss.