Tomato Time

Being the parent of an only child, I don’t know what it’s like to try to spread my mothering between siblings. Jeb gets 100% of my mama mana.

But beyond the parenting sphere, I tend to a multitude of other projects. Whether its my note cards, the succulent garden, or the family meal menu, I observe that each requires my attention, some needing more love than others, depending on the timing.

In the artistic realm, I may not be crafting volumes of words as of late, but the time is Now for the garden, as it prolifically produces art forms of its own. My job is to harvest the masterpieces.

A first attempt at growing tomatoes has proven fruitful.

Loving the creative process in all of its forms.

 

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Floating Fractals

I remember my uncle – a farmer and a lover of bluegrass music – standing on the wooden porch of his old farmhouse, clad in denim overalls. His big, fat beard fluffed about the base of his fiddle when he pressed it to his chin. The toe of his workboot tapping in tune, beside an old claw foot bathtub. It was filled to the brim and brewing with algae-ed water, teeming with plump pollywogs.

We don’t have tadpoles but we recently got a free bathtub, and we’re working to transform it into a serene water garden. We’ve nestled it in among the succulents and plugged the drain. Picked up our “starter kit” at the local water garden supply. Included were the clarifying plants, two “good” snails, and three Plattie fish. These all work together, keeping the water clear and the ecosystem balanced.

On the car ride home, Jeb sat in the back seat holding the plastic bag of fish naming each: “Leo Messie”, “Big D”, and “Small D.” He says he thinks Big D is dying, but as I drive I assure him he’s probably just a little stressed and resting.

But Jeb was right. By the time we’re ready to release the Platties into their new world, Big D is belly up. The fish were $2.00 a piece and he was our biggest one. I wonder if it’s worth it to go back to the supply store and request a replacement. I wonder if Small D and Leo will make more fish. Then I suggest we let Big D’s body stay in the tub because the other fish may eat him.

Though a bit disappointed, Jeb seems relatively unphased by the death. I notice that I seem downright callous about Big D’s demise.

We move on to those that are still living. The snails are healthily attaching to the tub walls. Small D and Leo are swimming with excited freedom in the largest sphere they’ve ever seen. Our water-lily, the “Blue Beauty,” is stretching out its lanky stems. The mosaic plants are fractally floating.

So far, the bathtub garden is doing well. I do hope Big D is at peace wherever his spirit may be. And as for me, I’m grateful for the ease of buoyancy I feel each time I look into this watery world.

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Owl at Dusk

Driving down the dirt road just after sunset, I was gifted with the gaze of an owl.

With only a dated iPhone to capture the moment, I took the best shot I could.

My car headlights illumined the red path ahead, though I didn’t see the bicyclist approaching in the distance (can you?).

Us three, in a mystical convergence just as the sun had slipped away.

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