Let It Grow Organic Gardens

And I resumed the struggle. -Vladimir

Sunday, April 16, 2006

The Farm's Beginning To Look A Little Like My Shoulder

Someday, we're going to look back on all of this and laugh.
We're plugging away, getting stuff into the ground and potting on plants. It was supposed to rain this weekend, but that's not looking likely. I'll have to do something about some irrigation in the next day or two. Markets will be opening soon, and we've got to get the stands together and get some shelves in the backs of the vehicles. And I'm already starting to think about firewood. Our saving grace has been the steady crunch of gravel as cars come up the road - folks stopping by to lend a hand.
All's a little bruised and battered around the edges, and sometimes bleeds from the center, but the prognosis is for a healthy recovery. By mid-summer, I predict the fields will be verdant and lush and the greenhouses will be shipshape. We'll have limited mobility until then, and one side will be sore, but we'll keep, as I say, plugging away.
I think not, sitting here this morning, of all that is not yet done, and all that will not be done, and all that will forever remain a mess, but rather of the dogwood blooming in front of the chicken coop, and the poplars making their slow annaul ascent up the mountain behind H*'s place. I think not of the dozens of leggy starts in the greenhouse or the parched cabbage in the field, but of that particular shade of green that is seen only in April, when the sun comes up over the mountains east of here and shines sideways on the new growing grass.
I don't know what to make of this. I'm either well adjusted, or, so much in the dark I've no hope of ever seeing reality. Whatever it is, I'll never figure it out, so I may as well keep on planting.

Like a loaf of organic, artisan bread, He is risen.


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