'Speaking of kids'...Meg sighed. She needed to apologize for the way her own had acted. 'What an embarrassing first introduction to a neighbor,' she thought. She headed out the door, praying that her apology would be accepted.

"Are your flowers this abundant every year?" Meg frowned at the dandelions freckling her own back lawn.

"Oh my, yes," answered Aunt Belle as she plucked a spindly weed and pinched a spent bloom. "They are my pride and joy."

"I can see that. You spend a great deal of time working with them and it shows. Your yard is beautiful! Obviously, my kids think so, too," Meg rushed to add. "I'm sorry my daughter picked your new bedding petunias, Belle. It won't happen again."

"Don't let it worry you, dear. Children are more important than flowers. The petunias will come back." Aunt Belle adjusted her frayed straw hat.

But it did worry Meg. As the weeks wore on, her kids quickly made new friends up and down the block. Now an entire army of children stormed the house and yard in summertime abandon. No matter how much she cautioned - and threatened - they overflowed into Belle's yard next door. Meg paid another visit to Aunt Belle.

"I noticed that our basketball knocked the blossoms off your prized peonies. I'm so sorry."

Yet, it didn't seem to frazzle Aunt Belle, however. "Children are more important than flowers," she said again. The peonies will come back."

As the weeks wore on, her yard took a backseat when it came to the kids. In fact, she championed them, all the while encouraging their visits, laughing at their antics, plying them with homegrown nosegays and homemade treats.

One hot month melted into another. Meg's temper got shorter while her apologies grew longer.

"I see the kids have worn a path through the corner of your lawn. It's their latest 'shortcut.' I can't believe I didn't catch them at it sooner.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Belle. I saw tracks crisscrossing your violets, and I'm personally acquainted with the guilty party. I'll remind him to keep his bicycle on the sidewalk where it belongs.

"Sorry again, Aunt Belle. Honestly, you must be a saint to put up with all these kids tearing through your beautiful yard. What were they thinking to let the dog roll and dig in your marigold bed? Your beautiful flowers are ruined!"

But, no matter what, Aunt Belle's angelic smile never wavered and neither did her reply. "It's fine, dear. Don't worry so. Children are more important than flowers. The flowers will come back."

Meg thanked God for a neighbor as forgiving as He was. Meg tried not to worry. After all, the children didn't seem to. They knew Aunt Belle was always available to listen to both sides of a disagreement, kiss a skinned elbow, and praise a slam-dunk. Her broom swept aside their capers along with her raining rose petals. In her patient way, Aunt Belle nourished both her garden and the blossoming children.

And so the summer passed, as did many summers after that. The pattern never changed: Aunt Belle serenely nursed bruised blossoms; Meg begged pardon for more "problems." By ones and by twos, all the kids grew up.

Today, Meg grinned as she walked into Room 33 at Four Seasons Manor. There sat her elderly friend, parked in a wheel chair, puttering with a row of posies.

"I can tell that it's summertime again, Aunt Belle, just by glancing at your windowsill. Why, look at all the flowers!"

An impressive collection lined the wall. Vases of fresh-cut roses and peonies, flanked by crocks of marigolds and jars of pansies, haloed Aunt Belle's angel-white hair. Her delicate fingers tamped the rich, damp soil that molded a clay pot of nodding violets.

"Yes, aren't they lovely, Dear?" Aunt Belle glowed. "I've had so many visitors lately, mostly children from the old neighborhood. My, my, how they've grown. And each one who visits brings me flowers." Delphinium-blue eyes watered. "What a beautiful surprise."

Inhaling the earthy, garden blend of fragrance and friend, Meg slipped an arm around fragile shoulders.

"Why, that shouldn't surprise you, Aunt Belle. Don't you remember? You always promised, 'They'll come back.' And you were right. They have."