Behind the house, the garden had grown wild in the years no one spoke. Roses climbed the fence and forgot they were domestic. The path vanished under mint and clover.

I went there with a pair of shears and a list of things to fix. But the silence was so complete that I sat down instead and let the bees argue among themselves.

A garden does not need permission to grow. It only needs time and the absence of footsteps. I decided not to prune anything that day.