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.

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A July morning jungle

The lines were drawn and the advancing vines paid no heed.

Sweet potatoes marching on pumpkin. Watermelon winding through to climb abandoned tomato cages.

A butterfly weed returned to hearty trumpets.

The okra is starting to synchronise. We may soon see more than one per plant per harvest.

And a zinnia has shouldered its way through the green beans to feel the sun on its head.

Dig deeper.

If at first you find only frustration and disappointment…
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Dig deeper.

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It’s not quite the fifty pounds from a few years back, but for the size of that planting and the size of this one I’d say it’s a tie. 28 pounds of sweet potatoes and I’m pretty sure I missed a few that dove down or escaped under the planks to the edging paths.

And while I felt a month late, apparently I’m 11 days earlier than 2012. Also, note to self: if you want to turn questionably nutritious soil into glorious earth sow sweet potatoes first. Now what to sow tomorrow to keep it lovely until spring?

Shadows cast.

The roses have buds. Branches glow, casting brisk lines. Cranes blot the sky as the earth sheds the day. The seasons have changed and the world feels crisp, crunchy.

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The sog battles the snap underfoot. Giving with one step, resisting the next, I feel the transition dance through my soul.

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My timing is off. The beat, I’ve lost. I am not the only one out of sequence.

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It’s time I pause to join once again in the rhythm of things.

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