I still remember the first summer we moved into this little suburban street: the kids—now 8 and 11—riding bikes while I unpacked a box of mismatched napkins, and Mrs. Reynolds from next door bringing over zucchini like it was a neighborhood rite. Mornings are a blur of breakfast cereal, school drop-offs, and a hundred tiny requests, and evenings become sacred family time when the chaos softens. Creating a calm outdoor corner where homework can wait and neighborhood snatches of conversation happen has changed how we live. Between soccer practice and dinner, I found that a few thoughtful touches can turn…