July 30, 2022
I feel exceedingly empty sometimes. I recently bought birthday gifts for people that no longer want to associate with me in any way. The garden grows exceptionally this year regardless. We let the beds overflow with life of their own. Clover and strawberries gave way to towering wildflowers and onion stems. Even a lone tomato, impoverished heir to last summer’s dynasty, peeks its little yellow flowers out over the side of the box. An understory of green stems create a paradise for little bugs, and the overstory, a buffet for bees and flower lovers of all kinds. Every square inch of soil is being used. Next year, I will not have access to this much soil. I may take some of the dirt with me and see what comes out of it when placed in a pot.
