two more days.



The countdown continues as the World’s Longest Week trudges on.

Day 5— Thank you strawberries, for teaching me that time is an illusion.  After an hour of weeding I look down at my watch: 9:05. weed, weed, weed, look down at watch: 9:05 still… oops, my watch stopped. weed, weed, weed,  lunch time already! Maybe the secret here is not having a watch to watch the minutes drag on through the tar-encrusted molasses. Or maybe I really did enter some kind of heavenly time warp the moment I crouched down to weed the strawberries.

Day 4– Rainy day. We washed many many seedling trays, and some coolers and trash cans, oh my. And then we organized the barn basement- disposing of the maggot-infested mice-bed bag of alfalfa, sweeping, and other common and ordinary daytime activities. Rain boots? Not never. [Plastic bag+rubber band fastener] under my shoes= dry feet. 

Day 3– Today was another weeding marathon. We’re weeding the perennial field, one of our last big tasks, and it is not a job for the wussy. The perennial field gets weeded once a year (if that), and blackberry brambles can get quite comfortable in a year+. As can grasses and other unwanted growing greenery. I am tired, my back is sore, my hands are cut and cracked.  But the peonies are happy.

We went to the grocery store after work to get us through the next two days; they were closed. Every day something else shuts down for the season, and every week the grocery store cuts its hours but lets you drive all the way into town to find out. 6:05pm and you better know what you’re having for breakfast because you’re staring at nothing but CLOSED signs.

Chard for breakfast? sure, why not.


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