I’ve started gardening again.

Pulling weeds for an older gentleman from church who often complains about his knees. He insists that the lily growing in his side garden is purple. I disagree, because it’s obviously pink. We argue back and forth about this for a while. He says his wife would have agreed with me, if she were still with us. She passed on of dimensia a few years ago.

Today I drove up to the farm, met baby chickens, greeted numerous cats, was stung by a bee, got dirt in my eye, and did not die of heatstroke due to the farmer’s attentive worrying. I cleared the weeds from around the blueberries and gooseberries.