I’m not the type to make New Year’s resolutions. I’m also not the type to set goals or make to do lists or schedule things in advance. What enneagram does that make me? It’s most certainly the one that has a tendency to roll their eyes at personality tests. Anyway. I’m not really setting resolutions
This summer, in the strip of yard where we grew pumpkins last year, we planted watermelons. We decided on a watermelon because when I left to go pick up a few seedlings, Thomas shouted, “I want watermelon!” Certain that what he meant wasn’t “I want watermelon NOW,” but instead, “I want to plant a watermelon
How’s you’re vegetable garden doing these days? It’s late September, hot, muggy, and how my garden’s doing can be summed up by, “I forgot about my garden.” Every year, every single year, in the springtime I am positively giddy about planting a garden. Then after three crippling months of heat and humidity and weeds and vine borers,
While on a walk a few weeks ago David noticed a bramble of blackberry bushes. The berries weren’t ready, the branches were covered in white flowers and tightly-packed clusters of green and pink, so we promised to come back in a few weeks. When we did, we found the bushes heavy with black, shiny berries.