Mar. 28th, 2017

clare_dragonfly: quill pen and spiral notebok (Writing: quill and notebook)
I pull out the last weed and get to my feet, surveying the snap-pea patch with satisfaction. They’re growing well this year; come summer, everyone in town will be able to get a good share of snap peas, even if everyone can’t have them at once. My mouth waters with anticipation as I think of it. As one of the people who actively work the community garden, I’ll get first pick—we’re the first to see what sprouts in the garden, so we’re the first to eat some.

Last night’s rain has made the earth rich and soft, easy to pull out the weeds that threaten our little piece of autonomy. It’s also made me all up and down mud as I worked, but that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I don’t think my friends and family would even recognize me if I didn’t have, at the very least, dirt caked around my fingernails and smeared on my knees.

I walk over to the compost bin and drop the weeds in, brushing the soil off my hands. When I turn around, I spy a familiar form at the edge of the garden—Jessamyn in her wheels. My cheeks warm as I lift my arm to wave to her, and she rolls forward, navigating deftly along the garden’s paved path.

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clare_dragonfly: woman with green feathery wings, text: stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories (Default)
Clare-Dragonfly

July 2017

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