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She pulled out a soggy clump of oak leaves, and suddenly remembered her father, ten years ago, on this very ladder. “Gutters are like arguments,” he’d said, scraping alongside her. “You ignore the small blockage, and next thing you know, the whole foundation’s flooded.”

“Classic,” she muttered, climbing the rungs with a putty knife clenched in her teeth. unblocking gutters

It was the first Saturday of autumn, and rain had been threatening all week. For Lena, that meant one thing: the gutters. She pulled out a soggy clump of oak

She’d been ignoring the telltale sign for a month—a small, optimistic maple seedling sprouting from the downspout corner. Now, as she hauled the aluminum ladder from the garage, a fat drop of water landed on her nose. The sky had decided to stop threatening. It was the first Saturday of autumn, and

At the time, she’d rolled her eyes. Now, standing in the mist, she laughed.