By Maryanna Gabriel
This morning had me scrambling for my insurance documents. The corner of the house rattled. Again. It was a 4.5. This time it was very close. If one was trying to ignore the ominous feeling in one's pit with world news, the geology around here would say otherwise.
Yesterday, I planted. With the sunshine, it felt like June. I love the timeless feeling as I work. The world falls away while I poke through my seed packages. For the first time in my life, I have graduated from direct planting under remay enshrouded rows to an actual greenhouse so in wonderment, I place the
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| Putting one's best green thumb forward. |
There are two new patches of dirt I am also cultivating and how to arrange it is very much on my mind. Given the uncertainty in the air, it seems prudent to put one's best green thumb forward. Imagine my delight as I stumbled across a patch of pink protruding buds of rhubarb down in the lower forty.
I also bought an electric composter. It seemed extravagant, but no, it is actually prudent and in the end will save me money. I spend so much on soil, and so much energy trying to understand how to deal with compost and the rules of garbage on a gulf island, without enciting a riot from the raccoons, to say nothing of the mice and rats that it is giving me a complete thrill.
Jasper, the cat's tail is much better. And so it goes.