I read the news last night, oh boy . . . oil, punditry, despair, blood, blame. When I try to write about stuff like that, I feel like a duck in the mud. No voice, no wings.
Around 7:00 this morning neighbor Ed Danks knocked, rousing Hana and me from Dreamland. We'd set the alarm for 5:40, but had gone back to dozing. Ed gave us some venison sausage for our breakfast and asked if we would help him plant a few rows of potatoes in the community garden. We were pleased to get the invite. After ginger tea and sausage, we put our work clothes on and joined Ed in the field.
Good friends and dark earth make all the difference in how a day turns out.
Around 7:00 this morning neighbor Ed Danks knocked, rousing Hana and me from Dreamland. We'd set the alarm for 5:40, but had gone back to dozing. Ed gave us some venison sausage for our breakfast and asked if we would help him plant a few rows of potatoes in the community garden. We were pleased to get the invite. After ginger tea and sausage, we put our work clothes on and joined Ed in the field.
Good friends and dark earth make all the difference in how a day turns out.
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