August Garden
My August garden is no place you want to be . . .
chaos
2 posts
2 posts
My August garden is no place you want to be . . .
The rain feels fat and semi-solid, like snow that has only just melted moments before landfall. We’re holed up indoors, except for one intrepid trip down treacherously compacted-snow-covered back stairs: time to put the Christmas decorations away, now that we’re in Epiphany; time to empty a week and a half of frozen...