Well that’s settled then.

The potatoes have returned from their freeze a month past.

And I’ve admitted that my current work is not healthy for me, aligned with me as a person, or necessary.

I don’t have much practice at quitting things. I hear that sticking up for yourself gets easier with practice. And practice takes starting.

Slowing between seasons.

And ready to.

We’ve been doing this every 3-5 days for weeks and weeks. The freezer is full, our friends are full, we’re full, everyone around us seems full of tomatoes.

And just like that, the heat comes, the season slows, and I start to scheme on the next season.

Drain.

A little thumb “pushed the white circle” to capture this for us.

I’m drained today. In that mix of needing to take me time and not having the oompf to do it. Silly mix. Stutter step. Gotcha catch.

Attention.

The okra have been standing at attention, reaching their teenage growth spurt.

A few have over grown their britches.

They’ve begun to topple.

Weighed down by my neglect, they lean.

Then the pole beans reach up.

Pulling them down.

Grandmother’s garden

I’ve been about again. My grandpa passed last week on my mother’s birthday.

In all of the care my grandma gives to others, in all of the time she’s spent away, in all of her years her garden has shrunk to a bright spot by her doorstep, plants throughout the house, and loved-upon loved ones and not-long-strangers where ever she’s been.

I’ll need to learn to make popcorn balls. My kids had yet to have grandpa’s family-famous treat.