When there is light, there is hope. When there is dark, there is hope. No one of us is limited to a bleak obsolescence, a mere side dish on the platter of fate. Does fate exist? I leave that up to you. Let the river rush through, as words, and let the high rocks crush and the trees hang me, until pain bleeds out and is no more. As we blink back our tears, the Earth drinks of them, and our smiles outshine the sun and rain, and all.
Garden in winter
Garden in summer (looks quite different, huh?)
Salad greens
Path between the milpas (5a & 6a), that I tilthed and seeded
What corn looks like under heat stress
More pictures later...
Much love.
~Yvea
posted by Yvea at 1:30 PM
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