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[Subject line from Grace Paley's "Having Arrived by Bike at Battery Park," which also includes the lines "Day! I love you for your delicacy / in appearing after so many years / as an afternoon in Battery Park right / on the curved water..."]
Abby inspecting the larkspur and basil I brought home from the fields
I spent the bulk of yesterday weeding beets and onions. I brought home beets, onions, fennel, basil, a mix of lettuces, and larkspur.
Three notes to myself, and an observation:
(1) Bring gloves next time. Yes, you hate wearing them, but you have business meetings on your calendar, and disguising trashed nails = pain in the ass.
(2) You need something rated higher than SPF 15 on your shoulderblades.
(3) Pulling up thickets of weeds a hair too quickly = faceful of flying dirt.
(Observation) In spite of publishing an entire poem about thinning plants, I still find it to be a process with pangs attached: am I pulling up (and leaving behind) the right ones? is there really not enough room for all the roots?
... but I also now have a pan full of culled beets to roast. And Mavis Staples on the stereo, and my beloved White Sox are leading the Indians at the top of the 3rd inning, and I have sheaves of work to plunge back into. (Yes, it's technically a holiday weekend. I'll probably make pesto for a cookout...)
Abby inspecting the larkspur and basil I brought home from the fields
I spent the bulk of yesterday weeding beets and onions. I brought home beets, onions, fennel, basil, a mix of lettuces, and larkspur.
Three notes to myself, and an observation:
(1) Bring gloves next time. Yes, you hate wearing them, but you have business meetings on your calendar, and disguising trashed nails = pain in the ass.
(2) You need something rated higher than SPF 15 on your shoulderblades.
(3) Pulling up thickets of weeds a hair too quickly = faceful of flying dirt.
(Observation) In spite of publishing an entire poem about thinning plants, I still find it to be a process with pangs attached: am I pulling up (and leaving behind) the right ones? is there really not enough room for all the roots?
... but I also now have a pan full of culled beets to roast. And Mavis Staples on the stereo, and my beloved White Sox are leading the Indians at the top of the 3rd inning, and I have sheaves of work to plunge back into. (Yes, it's technically a holiday weekend. I'll probably make pesto for a cookout...)
