Hovering over green strawberries, the honey bees, the gardener.
Back, shoulder, neck, wrist all aching—the tomatoes finally planted.
Heavy with fresh rain and memory, this heirloom iris unfurling.
I love how a vegetable garden evolves through the seasons. In the late spring, just after all the transplants have been planted and the peas are just starting, there’s a short period in which the garlic is the tallest, most-developed plant out there. Wait about a month and the garlic will barely be noticeable next to the peas, beans, asparagus, tomatoes, etc.
The garden is full of wet toddlers—just briefly the garlic is king.
This summer I installed an automatic chicken door that opens and closes with the sunlight and started letting my chickens free range during the day. For the first few days I went out to the coop with my heart in my mouth to count them and make sure no predators had taken any.
Free range chickens perched on sated claws—anxiously I count their number.
A round of layoffs— pale faces illuminate my own remote heart.
Late spring rain roles in— placing retained employees with the CTO.
Perfect strawberry snap—stem from cap—a jewel heavy in the palm.
Low back burns its red ache—strawberries deepen in the berry basket.
This year I learned I had been overambitious with planting 50’ of strawberries and expecting to be able to harvest them all myself. Luckily, my sister-in-law and nephew were happy to help.
Overlooking rows of jewels—berries beyond my capabilities.
Strawberry picking, tossing the bad ones over the high garden fence.
In the shade, sisters -in-law topping strawberries two different ways.