It’s been ages since he’s been. Five years, perhaps? Half his life.
He saw my grubby shoes go by the door.
I put on sunscreen.
I grabbed my keys.
I picked up the leash.
Loaded in the car, he quieted. Tongue lolling. Bracing corners. Toppling.
Just before the driveway to the parking lot.
I know, buddy, me, too.
Any guesses on this volunteer?
My main duty these days is laying on my side and not doing things. At least two more weeks of cooking are ideal and my body and this baby appear to be plotting their own plan.
A slow soak of sunshine is necessary to keep the stir-crazies at bay, during which I plot my tender snail’s pace loop about the gardens.
Somethings are larger than they appear…
And sometimes I’m glad I have more weeds.
The carrots are looking more carroty.
The garlic are a tangled tussle.
This leek came up all on its own. Having never successfully sown leeks, I can only marvel at its persistence in overcoming my interference.
A kind neighbor gifted us some fig twigs.
And in their ancient wisdom (the seeds are well over five years old and have yet to survive my best attempts) the Alyssum has joined the party.