Most of our mail, real mail, comes in long envelopes – the credit card bill, a charity mail-out. They’re starkly white and impersonal. I much prefer short, wide envelopes. My address on these is hand-scrawled across creamy paper and crowned with a real stamp. Fifty-four cents. Lick it and stick it. One of these appeared in the mailbox this week. My birthday has passed and the onslaught of Christmas cards has yet to begin, so I was perplexed.
This is what that creamy little envelope contained: A card from our Regional District and a packet of “Native Canadian Seeds” – both in thanks for the day my husband and I spent clearing noxious Broom bushes from a park. No disappointment. Those short envelopes always deliver. Next spring there will be less Broom in the park and Chocolate Lilies in my garden.