An abandoned birth bath, hidden now in knee deep nettles, its lichen-lined basin flooded with week old rain. It could be a pedestal for the invisible bust of some long dead gardener; a pillar of Hercules for the beetles, ants, and spiders. Here also is a rusting metal shovel with a splintered shaft and missing handle. The wheelless remains of a wheelbarrow still full of unidentifiable dirt and clods of grey earth. A skeletal greenhouse, every pane of glass shattered from the effort of trying not to cry. What was the plan for all those gormless heaps of tangled chicken wire?