This time of year, I could spend all my time in the yard, pulling weeds from the buffalograss.
I admit, my native meadow isn’t viable. It requires more work than the rest of the yard combined.
Intimacy:
the sap of salsify, hawkweed, thistle
marks my wrists
I feel burdened by things happening far away. My eighty-something father is piling up debt, and all I manage to do from here is worry while my brothers and sisters do all the work.
Pledges, taxes, loans, credit cards:
He’s generous, my sister says
In the garden at least, I can imagine progress by the end of the summer.
That is a rough bit of ground… a visual allegory of your thoughts.
That picture was taken in the spring of last year, which is the time of year when that section of the yard looks its worst. The buffalograss hasn’t greened up yet, so the weeds are especially prominent. It always looks better in the summer, but in the spring it reduces me to despair.
Beth Partin’s last blog post..Downtown Denver Museums: Firefighters Museum
Those are some tough worries, Beth. If you figure out the answer to either, you should share.
Mary’s last blog post..The best plan for a rainy day
I’ll do that, Mary.