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Thankful.

Going to gratitude keeps me sane so often these days. 

I was grateful the other day for two free hands during daylight hours to harvest sweet potatoes. 


It was a mediocre harvest this year. I only sowed the Japanese purple ones, thinking they had done the best and therefore deserved all the space. Yet the weather this year was different enough from the year before that they were pretty measly. So the lesson of the Great Potato Famine vs Peruvian potatoes has been relearned experientially. 

At least the bell peppers and Seminole pumpkins are still going strong. And the garlic came up. 

The underneath.

A perpetual chard that perpetually grew until it finally lost to Texas summer. 

A potted parsley planted and left for a year or so that’s gone to seed.

A misplaced mysterious melon. 

Malabar spinach’s inaugural year.

Complete with unexpected flowers.

And nearby neighbors.

I can’t. I do, but I can’t.

The loss and the hate. The fear and the sacred. The helpless and the want.

I can’t today. I can’t power through. I can’t refocus. I can’t feel any more.

It’s all too much.

But I do.

I check boxes. I pick up pjs. I make decisions. I eat. I breathe. I move through.

There has to be more to do than write letters and add words to the internet.