we've crossed mid-april and i still woke to find the house wrapped in a thin sheet of fresh snow; i've been in continual denial about my ability to put away my tights for the season.

i've put off turning over the plots in the yard; a small cup of water sits on the kitchen windowsill nursing some green onion roots. soon, i should think about starting potatoes. it always feels too late. i always start too early.

17 April 2018 16:05

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