A Garden of Unity
“That mean neighbor of ours, Mrs. Jones,” said Harriet Hippo, who never gets angry. “She claimed that Harvey ate all the vegetables from her side of the garden.”
“Oh my!” exclaimed Henry, laughing. “It was her son who ate them. I know, because I watched him amidst the budding flowers.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Harriet. “Having our gardens so close together is such a problem.”
“I can see that now,” said Henry, his tone tinged with regret. “I am sorry I ever agreed.”
“The whole idea behind it was to foster unity in our neighborhood,” said Harriet. “But all it has done is create a rift.”
“If only there was something we could place in the garden to separate it,” mused Henry.
“What about Harvey’s statue of a tree with a bird on it?” Harriet suggested, seeing Harvey approaching with his statue, as the scent of fresh spring blooms filled the air.
“That is a wonderful idea,” said Henry. “We have been wondering where to put it.”
Harvey agreed, and the hippo family lifted the statue, setting it down in the center of the garden.
“Oh, what a lovely statue,” commented Mrs. Jones when she saw it later that day, as the garden buzzed with the activity of bees pollinating the spring flowers.
“We think it should solve our garden issues,” said Harriet. “It will give each of us a bit of privacy.”
“Let me weed out some of these tomatoes,” said Mrs. Jones, kneeling among the sprouting greenery.
“I will weed out the carrots,” said Harriet, joining in the task as a gentle spring breeze rustled the leaves.
Harvey looked over at the two women and then to his dad.
“It appears that separating the garden has actually brought unity to them,” Henry laughed.
“The garden of unity,” laughed Harvey, as the warm sun of the spring afternoon bathed them all in its golden light.
Moral of this Story:
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