It’s storming outside, has been for a while. It’s ridiculously late and I’m almost contemplating waiting for the next feeding rather than go to bed (though not really), but what I’m really thinking about is: I wish I’d picked more of the dry beans when I was out in the garden over the weekend. I got some, but there were lots more, and I’m afraid the rain is going to spoil them the way my Hutterites were spoiled their first year. Apparently the baby fog is starting to lift a little.
Flowers and even fruit are only the beginning. In the seed lies the life and the future.
Marion Zimmer Bradley
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August 19, 2009 at 12:29 pm
Weeping Sore
Rain and fog at night – what a lovely mood you conjured up in such a few words – regret about beans and a sleeping baby somewhere in the background.