Tell Her to Find Me an Acre of Land

Creeping thyme, lettuce, grapes, peaches, and blueberries all looking good on this blue-sky day.

Strawberries are flowering up for their next round, garlic leaves are starting to yellow a bit, onions are thinking about bulbing, hardy kiwi vines are reaching and climbing, chives are thick and tall, first tiny peppers and tomatoes have made their appearance, scallions are filling the air with scent, dill, oregano, lavender, rosemary, and cilantro are ready for anything, asparagus ferns sway in the breeze, and there’s enough basil for the first pesto of summer.

A neighbor stopped by recently to ask Dagny what we do about critters eating our food. The answer is that we plant extra to accommodate all of the inhabitants of this land we call ours, but which really doesn’t belong to us any more than the puffy white cloud I can see out my window as I’m typing this.

Our yard is full of birds, swooping from grass to berries to trees, leaving a trail of white dots on our picnic tables and chairs. Chipmunks scurry from rock wall to fence line in a blur of speed on their way to and from the strawberry patch. Rabbits multiply like, well, rabbits. I once looked to the side as I lay in the sun next to the pool to find a groundhog a foot away snoozing in the shade of a lounge chair, likely full from eating the cabbages I had planted nearby. For the past two days wild turkeys have scratched and dug in my lovely deep mulch, leaving untidy piles of straw in their wake.

The animals are not always convenient for me. But I imagine they feel the same way about the loud, giant, two-legged creatures lumbering around their yard. And as disheartening as it can be to step outside and find a deer has nibbled the tender buds off the fruit trees, I am glad to be part of this bustling acre of life.


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