I have two raised bed planters on the deck. Last year I grew herbs, scallions, celery, tomatoes and chard very successfully. I also grew indigo in a pot. Right nearby. I moved the pot onto the planter later in the season. Somehow some seeds found a home there. Ha! I usually start the indigo indoors. I have some waiting for warmer days, but these are already strong and ready to go. I had no idea they would reseed here.
More work on Shelter. I slid some silk beneath the fringe. An edge beyond fringe. And then I did a lot more stitching to integrate the layers. I want it to feel like one cloth. This takes time. More time than I have been taking in a long time. I have become so much aware of how generating work to sell or show keep me from the depth of detail I love.
And also now there are thoughts about integration as a symbol, which I will simply think about today. Try to catch my thoughts.
I have strayed from something without a name. What if I could get back?
At the same time I wonder what I will do about getting my old classes off Typepad. Do I have the energy for that?
My brother, the one in Idaho, the botanist, sent me many seeds, many kinds of mustard greens. All labeled neatly in little packets. I planted all kinds, in rows in the other deck planter. And I used the little packets, skewered with toothpicks, to label each row. It rained hard the next day. The ink washed away. Only the papers remained like little flags that seemed to ask why do you assume anything is permanent?