Cooper and I pulled the peas on Friday night. They were ready to come out. We saved some dry wrinkled pods for next season,
On Saturday morning we made Huckleberry Jam. I never make enough to really feel comfortable that it will turn out. The berries are hard to come by this year.
Later we dug the garlic. It was a heck of a job under the sun. We laid them to dry on a canvas tarp. We tried to find shade but there wasn’t any.
On Sunday we went to the the drugstore and bought a toothbrush to clean the dirt off the garlic. We trimmed the beards and cut their necks. They looked good. Copper negotiated a good deal for his Mom and Dad. At first I said only one clove. The next thing I knew they are going home with pounds.
It’s been warm. I look at the edges. The leaves dyeing, yellowing under the plants. The cool that hits before light. The squash that puts out. The snakes that scatter near the railway. The plants that don’t belong, but thrive. The shore line, altered, but still recognizable.
It always makes me wonder. The clock, the river, sun up, the stars, all that. Times have changed. No matter how hard I close my eyes and imagine, it will never go back to the way it was.
That’s a goddamn good thing.
Diving off the clay banks into the young Columbia. Swimming among the weeds.
Cooper and Scarlett hold my hands while they walk. I want to both protect them and set them free.