Friday, June 6, 2014

A Call To Arms

Sifting through recent snaps in yellow green, I lingered over the promise of life in a tiny cucumber, the possibility a virgin white pepper blossom holds.
A seed becomes a sprout, breaking heroically through the earth to grow, flower, and fruit. A fruit that will be lovingly harvested and used to nourish...WTF...are those green dots? aphids?
I race to yellow green. How could I not see the multitude of invaders before? They've infiltrated the peppers, the eggplants, the basil, the zinnias. This will not happen on my watch. Time to mobilize the troops - 4500 ladybugs are on their way to yellow green.
Plants are watered down and in the evening hours of June the 5th, troops storm infected beds. OORAH!
D-Day morning reveals happy little ladybugs everywhere, aphids nowhere. Hey you two, get a room.


Later that day a tree service guy while gushing over the tomato plants in yellow green says," If you want to get rid of those ladybugs, just introduce a praying mantis or two." That just doesn't seem right after all their hard work. Think I'll leave the door open on a sunny day and let them fly away home.



the sandin

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Tuesday's Child

No better place to start than here, at the beginning. No better time to start than now, when things are imperfect, unfinished, unknown. No better way to start than quietly; slipping into the world unnoticed: no fanfare, no announcement; just a slight breeze sliding through a newly cracked door; the door of the yellow greenhouse which now, is filled with plants and hopes, and one day, grace.



the sandin