So few aspects of life, left altogether untended, still reward us with beauty and bounty. Not so with our organic planter box, which I neglect year-round, and nonetheless explodes every summer into a lush strawberry patch.
Each spring, our table is dressed with supple, sensual bouquets of calla lilies. They were planted here well before our arrival by a fool, as I’m reminded once a year when thinking, “Oh that’s right, we have a calla lily plant.”
In their first trip into the wild front yard, teaching the chicks to free-range scratch and forage.
Fierce, fluffy, eyeliner on fleek.
O autumn, fairest of them all, and me empty-handed!