By Jan Worth-Nelson I swear, by the time I stride onto the south end of Kensington, just a few hundred yards from my house, the endorphins already are kicking in.  My breathing evens out, and there’s often a cardinal or two darting around in the brush bending over Gilkey Creek. I don’t know what most of those plants are—mostly “weeds,” I guess, but I don’t care.  They’re green and they’re wild and they belong there as much as I do. And I love the sun-yellow signs tucked along the creek, installed by neighbors of the winding little waterway—no bureaucrat involved, just a clutch of good folks acting out...