Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Four

1. There are the sprinklers again.

2. Humid morning. But cool. Sweater and jeans kind of cool. I make my way across the patio and find a snail with a bluish hue.

3. I slice the leeks and at them to the red onions, caramelize them for the baked potatoes. I think about how this is indeed Pandemic food. But it’s not pandemic food; it’s resourceful food. It’s using what you have kind of food which is what most folks do every day. It’s what we’ve always done.

4. I text her to confirm the time of surgery. She says the hospital will send her text updates.

5. “The future is in your mouth.” Ocean Vuong

6. “…reclaiming the practices that sustained our ancestors.” - Bryant Terry

7. I feel like I need a nap. I slide beneath the covers and open “California Calling: A Self-Interrogation. I am relieved to see a structure that is nonconventional. Or is it more conventional now? Either way, it’s encouraging to see published work that looks more like how I write.

8. I don’t even wear the kinds of things she makes but when she describes them it makes me excited and I can tell she’s excited too and so this is what I tell her she should focus on.

9. I tug at the hose, frustrated. Why is everything so limp and turning yellow? They look like they are simultaneously over-watered and under-watered. Nothing is germinating in the seed tray. This is a learning year, maybe. But still. I want to eat the peas. I want to eat the lettuce. I want a harvest.

10. How much longer will I avoid it?