There you go, Steve Reed. That's a potato plant. Well, several potato plants. The potatoes grow from the roots, obviously.
I swear I am seeing the swelling of the pecan leaves which means it's time to plant tomatoes and peppers and squash and beans. Although we planted everything by schedule this year, there is no room in the garden right now due to the sprouting peas and potatoes, the still thriving greens and onions and shallots. Is this a first-world problem or just a general human agricultural one? For us, of course, a first-world problem in that if we don't get tomatoes and beans in the ground, we won't starve.
I woke up not twenty minutes after I fell asleep last night from some dream I could not remember but my eyes were wet. I think the rest of the night must have gone like that because this morning I woke with despair painting my very soul. One of those days where anything positive I try to remember ends up sounding as useless and false as a Stewart Smalley affirmation. "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!"
Anyway, I'm doing all those things that we people who can't be happy even with all of our blessings are supposed to do. Taking my vitamins, my medication, my hormones, my walks. I'm doing for others as well as myself. I'm eating fairly "right." I am trying to get out into the world and interact with others in a seemingly "normal" way. I make lists, I make promises to myself, I try to keep them. I look at pictures like this and want to cry
because honestly, all I want to do is run away. And of course, there IS no running away from oneself. As Mary Engelbreit so charmingly points out
and fuck that. For whatever reason, this gives me more comfort.
Fuck the goddam platitudes and just keep doing what you do and dealing with the shit.
Speaking of which, the hen house needs a good clean-out.
I feel better now.