Weekend guests came through, and we patched a hole in the drywall in the garage, repaired the deck where the 40-mile-per-hour winds tore through.
Everything is budding, now. One of the peach-trees has burst open into gorgeous purple, pink, violet, white flowers. The Asian pear tree is pushing out new limbs. The Moro Blood Orange Tree has new growth hidden in the evergreen. The Muscadines, Grapes, and Kiwi vines are growing green, climbing up to the sky from their trellises. The pomegranate tree, so young and small, has red-green leaves pushing out. The pumpkin is in wide bloom.
Everything grows, now.
I pulled watermelon radishes from the garden. the Black Spanish Radishes are bolting, and I say, let them flower and reseed.
Write more. Go out into leaf bud and bloom and push through it all. A novel in a season, if you can. New work every harvest, with the seeds of next year’s harvest inside of them.
Be a good perrenial writer fruit tree. Be a good squash vine. Be a good tomato plant.