The Herb Table by the Gate

For three Saturdays, Tavi had arranged the herb pots on the garden's upper terrace. He turned the rosemary so its silver-green leaves caught the light and set lemon balm beside the path. At Sunday's neighborhood open house, visitors would follow his hand-drawn map uphill to the display. He had even made a heading for the map: A Garden for Everyone.

On Saturday afternoon, Ms. Okafor arrived to help check the route. She had taught Tavi how to loosen roots before planting them. Now she paused at the bottom of the terrace in her wheelchair. The path rose sharply and was covered with loose gravel. She studied it, then glanced toward the entrance.

"Your rosemary has grown beautifully," she said. "But I won't be able to reach it up there." Tavi looked at the pots. From below, they appeared small and distant. "I could bring you a sprig," he offered. Ms. Okafor smiled. "I'd rather choose which leaf to smell, just as everyone else will."

After she left, Tavi stood beside his map. His friend Leena suggested putting a few cut herbs near the gate. It would take ten minutes, and the terrace could stay exactly as he had planned it. Tavi reached for the scissors, then stopped. A handful of cut stems would not offer the same choices as living pots.

"What if the whole display came down?" he asked. Leena surveyed the level space beside the gate. A sturdy worktable stood there, holding empty trays. They cleared it and checked that the tallest pots would be within easy reach from a seated position. There was room beside the table for visitors to pass without crowding.

Moving the pots took most of the afternoon. As they carried the last one down, Leena asked whether Tavi minded losing the terrace view. "A little," he admitted. He rubbed a lemon balm leaf between his fingers. Its bright scent stayed with him all the way to the gate. "But the view isn't what we're inviting people to smell."

That evening, Tavi revised the map, drawing the herb table beside the entrance. Beneath a small picture of the pots, he wrote a caption: Explore the scents at sitting height. He kept the heading, A Garden for Everyone, but traced the word Everyone slowly. This time, it felt less like decoration and more like a promise.

On Sunday, Ms. Okafor rolled up to the table and reached for the lemon balm. A young child beside her leaned close to the rosemary. Neither needed someone else to choose a leaf. Tavi watched them compare the two scents, then stepped back so another visitor could join them.

"You found a better spot," Ms. Okafor told him. Tavi glanced uphill, where sunlight still spread across the empty terrace. Yesterday, he would have pointed to that shining patch without hesitation. Now he looked at the hands gathered around the pots. "I think we did," he said.