A Weekend

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It’s been spring break for most people. Some went out of town. Some tried to go out of town. Some stayed in town.

Us? Well, just on Saturday and Saturday only, we went to the farm, Mother, Silent Bob, me, John and Joshua. It was, for many reasons, the only day we could gather as a family.

We collected eggs from the coup and Mother made egg salad.

We hung a swing under the porch of the new red barn while two little poodles and one big lab dug their noses into newly  made gopher holes.

My tiny, tiny seeds of from last year’s harvested African zinnias, were busy getting a bit bigger in my southern most flower bed, their chloroplasts churning out oxygen as they soaked up the packets of sunlight.

For the first time since we put in the new well, we felt free to water the almond and olive trees and the newly planted garden, and the delicate pink antique rose at the split rail fence sent it’s sweet fragrance all around us as the wind blew strong from the south.

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