A prism of light graces the San Juans over La Manga pass to the West as the sun breaks through the clouds, a shard. Winter birds line the wires and the horses head to the watering trough.
This overcast sky makes the morning warm as I slip out, bare-toed, to the chickens who are not yet roused awake.
This may be a day of more inside than out, but there is the catching up on cleaning garlic, storing potatoes, stripping the leaves and flowers of the dried herbs, clearing and organizing for the next round of tomatoes, rose hips, marigold and calendula flowers. And maybe after this round of rain, the mountains will proffer another round of mushrooms to dry.
And when to plant the garlic, lay down the red clover seed on the worn potato bed? Another day. Another day.
2 comments:
Dear Author, -Too much detail and not enough conflict/action. The description of work to be done are good. A meditative piece..
Thank you, -HM
Heidi, are you mistaking this for fiction?
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