Saturday, April 18, 2015


Feet on the ground.

Sometimes, in order to bring a woman closer to the Life/Death/Life nature, I ask her to keep a garden. ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves

We talked, earlier this year, about making the garden larger. The raised beds created a few years ago don't seem to work. Not sure why. My methods are trial and error ~ I try one way and get plenty of tomatoes, the same way next year yields green tomatoes by winter. So, in talking about making the garden larger, I had an idea the new soil needed to be better met with the native soil (which is mostly rocks ~ we grow great rocks) and decided to create a couple of plots instead. Hopefully, the expansion will get us more daylight hours on those plots for tomatoes. I live for the summer tomato even though we plant other things. Lettuce, annual herbs, squash, beans and flowers, they all have their place, but a bright zinnia pales in comparison to a beauteous summer tomato.
Two more plots waiting to be planted.

There is no work like gardening work, which isn't really work. At least not to me. Having been stuck in a mental loop for a few days, bare feet on the ground and working the soil felt good and right. The muscles ache, but in a good way. I'm tired, but it's a good tired. I breathed in lusty breezes and turned grass over with a hoe, mixing in garden soil to build up plots. Spending time turning dirt reminded me of times in my mother's garden. Turning the ground with a hoe, busting dirt clods with a garden fork. I was glad the roto-tiller didn't work. I would have missed the grounding I needed expanding a garden.

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