Last summer in construction class, I built a tiny (really tiny) house to serve as a neighborhood library. I installed it in the perennial border at the end of my driveway, where at any given moment it holds an assortment of fiction and nonfiction, young adult novels, doggie poop bags for neighborhood canines, and a handy spiral-bound AP Stylebook that no one seems to want. (C’mon, y’all, grammar matters!)

It has been such a joy to meet people as they come and go, borrowing and sharing books, that I have wondered how we can expand the driveway library, to promote even more interaction with our neighbors.

Today was arguably the first day of spring, when it’s not too hot and it’s not too cold and the first flowers peek out from the leafy gray blanket of winter’s neglect, as if to say, “Let the weeding begin.” So I started my annual ritual of dividing plants. I was rehoming a glorious wood poppy when I realized that the rich new soil beneath the driveway library was still bare, because we installed the library at the peak of summer heat, when nobody has any business planting perennials.

So this morning I transplanted a hardy tangle of mint at the base of the library and entered a pair scissors on the shelves. Next time you swing by our library, help yourself to a sprig of fresh mint, then go home and enjoy a cold glass of tea or a mojito as you study your AP Stylebook.