It was 52 degrees when Robert pulled his pickup up to the garden gate this morning. The sky looked pale and thin, like the sun was trying to shine through a wool blanket. Sister Mary Claire buttoned her coat tight and helped me lift Mini into the cab. Robert leaned out his window with his usual kind smile and said, “Morning, girls! Cold one, but we’ll beat the freeze yet.” Then he laughed softly and waited while we climbed in. Mini sat between us, warm as toast, her ears twitching every time the truck rattled over a bump.
At Mass, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Luke—about the rich man who tore down his barns to build bigger ones so he could store all his grain and goods. But then, God called him a fool because he had stored up treasure for himself and not for God.
Father explained that sometimes we think we’ll be safe if we have enough things—food, money, clothes—but those things don’t last. He said our real riches are the ones we build in Heaven: kindness, prayer, love, and sharing what we have with others. Sister whispered that our barns should be in our hearts, filled with goodness instead of grain. I liked that thought very much.
On the way home, Mini curled up by my coat and sighed, the way she does when she’s sleepy and content. Robert said the frost might come tonight, so we’d better cover the garden one more time. I’ll help after supper. The air smells like cold earth and woodsmoke—autumn’s kind of perfume.
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