Today makes my back hurt just thinking about it. We have started building our raised garden beds. I was feeling pretty good about the weekend-long effort, then Hiram said something about geometry and the square footage we’ll have for plants when we’re finished being less than I thought. How can four smaller beds using all of the same pile of the wood we had be less than our original plans for two bigger beds not using everything? The answer is: Whatever. I’m still stoked.
Entries from Tucson
Nothing says home of the brave like hoarding toilet paper.
It would be sad not to photograph these orchids a friend brought over and there is enough sadness in the world already, so I do what I can.
When did kitsch get to be so bossy?
Is it true? Are dreams like paper? And if valentines are paper, are they like dreams, which are like paper? Be careful out there. Ciao.
In which the first light on a Saturday morning makes me giddy.