I'm sitting here after an hour and a half in the yard, the best time of the day - when the sun is going down over that "mighty fine swamp" - I am drinking a white russian (my new found habit of having the occasional cocktail in early evening, thank you, Monika). I've been clearing leaves, trimming raspberries, digging out pots and planting lettuce and sweet peas. Examining the spring onions, hoping against hope they sprout. Wishing I'd worn my leather gloves, as those damn raspberries really hurt!
Clearing out the basil boxes, inhaling the spicy, savory smell of the brown stalks, I took my time. This time - last year - I gloved up, masked up, and moved as fast as I could to put in the few plants. Couldn't risk infection from the soil! This time - this year - the wet soil felt good in my hands, and the warm scent of the herbs in the sun encouraged me to linger. I took my time. I'll take my time again tomorrow.
What a blessing.
I have no idea where the turkeys have gone, but the female blackbirds are back and they are the drama queens of the marsh!
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