Worked well into the dark last night. Almost 9:30. Watered everything. Made 7-8 tomato cages. I get 150ft rolls of 5ft tall wire mesh, used for pouring concrete. I cut that, every eleven squares and then bend the wires around itself to make the circle. Then I use wire cutters and cut off the bottom of the cage.
They work great for everything that grows vertically, tomatoes, peas, beans. Work til you ache and work some more, I think. There’s a joy in that. You can do so much if you just refuse to stop. I went and Planted more beans, then marigolds, then some cukes and watermelon. I collected the seed on the last two from years passed, so I overseeded my mounds, and if a lot germinate I will move and thin out.
It was getting hard to see. And everything was quiet and loud at the same. No cars, no people, no Babylon, but nature waking up for the hunting time, the people free time. A coyote howled and screeched at me over the road, in the tree ridge.
Finished planting, I held my dirty hand against the ground, said an Our Father and a Hail Mary. I could feel the dirt move against me, breathing in rhythm. When I opened my eyes, there was a cloud of fireflies swarming around me, blinking their applause.
I came inside numb and happy. Like many fools before me, I reflexively decided to check in on Babylon. Went to drudgereport.com, 19 Dead in Manchester. It was hard at work too. A deadly, yellow, sick synapse broke at the base of my skull. Stare now, it taunted.
And I did. I forced myself to read the details. Stare at the pictures. There is no hope for Babylon, I know. But I will remember and I wont look away. And I will steal the light. Hide it in a basket and stash it at the dead end of a gravel rode, in Nowhere. There are still Nowheres: don’t let them tell you otherwise. Still fresh air, and big skies. And the coyotes call with needy tones, there is a place for you here.