Thank you, wind, for your gift of whimsy.
Little Foot and all
All things thankful and bright
Peas in a… tent.
The okra is done. The pumpkin leaves have wilted. Hopefully they have the roots to ripen their fruit. I need to uncover the lettuce and take the bucket hats of the peppers.
Grow and tickle the noses
Sometimes we need to stop and smell the flowers.
And sometimes, when you just need that moment, the flowers find their own way to lower your shoulders and ease your day away.
Where’s Jack?
Lesson learned: if my bean poles are too short, plant them under low tree branches.
Hey there, fella. What’s your name?
Sweet sweet earth
Sometimes, when harvesting sweet potatoes, I miss one.
Usually, they rot through the winter.
Sometimes, they don’t.
If only they tasted nice at this size.
Thankfully, there were first-year neighbors underground.
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.
Good morning, okra-shine.
plumdirt 