This afternoon, I felt. . .inflexible. I took a bowl from the kitchen and went into the green heat of the garden. So much has happened since my last garden foray. The garden is Neil's yield and I do not have a daily hand in it. The wide green leaves hide saturated golds and reds. The chard is glowing; the sunflower camouflages a fat bee. Yield is the word.
The garden yields and so will I today.
Herb garden warrior.