Farmer at Heart?

Not really. I couldn't tolerate the stress of one's whole living depending on the weather. But when I get out there and dig and sweat and rake and grade, it's enough to make all seem right with the world.

And if, like this morning, I get outside around 7, there just might be my old friend the brown thrasher, high atop a tree and singing out for pure joy. You can listen to him, here, by clicking on "play song."

The variety of their warblings is simply exquisite. Listening and digging and stopping to listen some more...makes it hard to return to the house.

And in the end, when a well-formed bed lies dark and smooth in the morning sun, you almost hate to mar it's perfection by planting seeds.

But you do, because there's nothing beats seeing something grow, to make you feel alive.
 

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