May 4, 2024
The terrible anniversary.
After an hour or so of concentrated excavation, I finished clearing this side of the fence up to the hart’s tongue ferns. What to plant there to keep the weeds from coming back I don’t know, but something will occur. Almost as I finished the rains came. I poured wine and sat on the front porch blessing God for the beauty of my garden. In all our collaborations, that is the only one that has come to any end I recognize.
Fledgling towhee on the fence, all fluffy and disarrayed, unlike her elegant mother.
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