It's high summer, and my front-yard garden is a hub of activity. Just yesterday the baby Blue Birds "fledged" and flew off with their parents. The tomatoes are ripe. The sunflowers are gazing up. The bees, with their impressive work ethic, are busy as usual. There's weeding to do...someday. Not now.
I've been in Pluto, North Dakota-- in soul if not body. I'm reading Lousie Erdrich's masterful, beautiful novel, The P
lague of Doves, about the intertwined, fascinating lives of the Ojibwe and whites who hate and love, murder and intermarry.Weeding? Nah. Reading? Yeah.
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