Maybe it seems a bit selfish but I want the joy that I get from farming to be shared by all even if it comes in the form of the tiniest pot of basil on the kitchen sink.

Early to bed mode is kicking in. The farm is training me into a morning routine. Wake; make coffee and dress with instructions to head to the barn for morning chores.

A rose bush attacked me today. I was being an innocent caregiver, a helper to a flower that needed my attention. How could something so beautiful lash out so horribly?