Tuesday, August 16, 2011

now its

Messier and messier.
Not about to do my watering for me.

In fact, I should be watering now.

garden pests

used to be

Used to be, I didn't really have to water the garden. You couldn't leave pillows on the deck overnight, or shoes.

That poppy, above, was the first one.  It lasted a few hours, max.

Each thing seems so fragile when it is just beginning, and so inevitable when it is grown and gone.

Which season is not magical?  Which day is not full of its own small miracle?

Thursday, August 11, 2011

when we get home

Talking in the tent while The Wilders ripped it up on the Woods stage, the last night of Pickathon:

"What will we do when we get home?"
"Well, there'll be harvesting to do..."
"There will be cucumbers?"
"And ripe tomatoes?"
"Probably.  We hope."
"There will be zucchini!"
"And green beans!"
"Yes, darling girl, there will be green beans."

And indeed, there were.