'Twas a Monday morning indeed, with weeds to our knees digging potatoes in a little sprinkle that turned into glorious afternoon sunshine. I smell a bit of tractor after pleading with the green machine to start (a plea it refused) and am soaked head to toe thanks to my body's own swamp-cooling system. I am a farmer--these are the events of my day that, though mundane, make for a good day.
Broccoli will be leaving the nursery of the greenhouse to live in the farm fields this week. The plants look hardy and well, with good promise for a healthy share of heads this fall. It's funny how the florets do remind so many (myself included) of miniature trees, as if we were giant people able to eat oak trees as a side dish.
I thought about this size dimension again while looking over the newly sprouted rows of salad mix, thinking they look like forests from an airplane's perspective. Oh, to be a bug or a bird for a day would surely explode my brain in wonder.
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