My neighbor let her dog use my lawn as a toilet every morning for six months and never cleaned up once — I stayed polite until she made one comment I couldn’t forget, and by the next morning I’d taught her a lesson without raising my voice once.

My yard does.

My husband Tom and I have lived on Sycamore Lane for seven years.

We bought the house when our oldest child was still a baby, which means I have spent nearly as much time growing that garden as I have raising our children.

The yard isn’t huge.

Our house and Marguerite’s sit close together, separated by a narrow driveway and a property line I know almost down to the inch because I have planted along nearly every part of it.

But what the yard lacks in size,