May 23, 2025
Sky blue as blue, with a few hurrying white clouds. Very cold. All the windows shut.
Dug, weeded, planted four o’clocks with their surprisingly stout seeds. In the patch where I planted them I carefully weeded and cultivated around old four o’clocks planted in another year (four or five ago) and reseeded or somehow surviving. Moments such as that, precise, intimate, rewarding the striving (which does not always happen in the world), are the best of gardening.
Internet is out so no news of the world reaches me. I’m intolerant of such moments, furious not to have the convenience even if I wasn’t right then going to use it.
Ten years ago I was in Omaha for the first iteration of Washington Place.
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