I was hoping to share a beautiful poem about a winter rose. I couldn’t find one! I suppose I will have to keep looking. If the English romanticists couldn’t get over themselves, surely other cultures might offer up a few?
The garden was not on my to-do list today, except that it’s always on my list. I spent a lovely hour in the sun spacing vegetable seedlings. I still have a few hours of that pleasant task ahead of me this week. As difficult as Texas gardening is in summer, it’s positively lovely in the cooler half of the year.
It feels great to to work outside, concentrating on the task at hand, without having to deal to with bugs biting or sweat trickling down my face and neck.
Cilantro, cabbages, lettuces, beets, carrots, parsnips, kale, chard and so much more – all popping up exuberantly. Last year, everything came up late and I didn't space the seedlings properly. This year, I hope to do better and enjoy an even bigger harvest.
The roses, of course, have simply been waiting to show off.
Keep me away from the wisdom that does not cry, the philosophy that does not laugh, and the greatness which does not bow before children. – Gibran Khalil Gibran