I'm Home

After a long, hot summer in a cold office basement, I am back to the place I love best. When my children were younger, they'd come in, slam the door, drop their books, and get a snack: in that exact order. And they'd call out, "I'm home." Now that half of them are gone, and drive a distance to return, "I'm home" means so much more. After spending the entire growing season in an office, I'm home. The garden was a wreck, but laboring to restore the vegetable and flower beds is the most meaningful thing I've done all season.

The water spigot here represents the font of life for my little acre. One hundred-plus degree days took their toll, reducing cantaloupes and pole beans alike to wilting masses. Cucumber beetles reigned the day. Not spending time in the garden every day allowed huge swaths of weeds to annex my strawberry and raspberry patches.


A couple breezy days of work have mended the garden; several rows of lettuce--Bibb, Iceberg, and Black Seeded Simpson--are coming along fine. The sugar pea pods are a few inches high, and the spinach has passed the cotyledon stage just in time for the rabbits to arrive. Yes, I am home.