My gardens have such a strange way of lending me peaceful energy.  I like to pick in the cool of the morning and tend in the waning heat of the evening.  Today was such a long, hot day, nearly 100F and full of soft struggles that nipped at my patience and felt pathetic and like suffering.  This evening, I mustered the last of my strength and set out with a desperate heart to catch up on my tangled cucumbers and eggplants divine.  My garden sits in a hollow beneath a rise of stoic sage, pine and poplar.  As the sun sets, the light dims and fades until my plants are in delicious shadow and the mysteriously dank scent of tomato leaves begins to spiral upward.  The cool of wet earth spools around me and I find myself refreshed and invigorated in a quiet, sensory way.

I think this is how flowers feel

when the day finally breaks back upon itself and a riptide of night moves fast to the West

and the bugs spread their wings and fly towards the last of the sun.


  1. I sure love that glinting sun photograph….and the words. I look forward to your blog. Am somewhat hesitant to ever reply or comment since both you and your friends and followers are so immaculately beautiful with your words and phrasing. I so appreciate the chance to read your musings….Sending you a big bouquet of Russian sage. Without the honeybees!

  2. your beautiful post reminds me of why i love my garden up on coyote hill. so peaceful up there, my spirit fed when i feel oh-so-weary. i wish for more flowers. next year….next year……
    by the way, you look powerfully strong, elfkin farmgirl. strong and beautiful.

  3. Someday, I would love to see your self-portrait setup!


  5. Where are your boots from? Love them.

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