chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things


Waking in the night to the unfamiliar ache of shoulders, knees, body rattled from its somnolence by the first earnest day of gardening after this long, wet and very cold winter. A day of sun and birdsong, spading compost into still-sodden beds where only a few earthworms have ventured upward from their winter sleep. Two mason bees combing the stickiness of first flight from their wings as they soak up the sun’s warmth on the south wall. A few tiny wasps tending the plum blossoms, which are already spreading their white petal-fall on the ground. As I tumble back into sleep, the rain returns to water the fava beans and peas, the new-mown patch of mossy lawn, the rolled-tight daffodils leaning toward morning.

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