I have a feeling it
will get worse.
I have a feeling tonight
it will hail through the smoke and nail my garlic. It's a critical time. There’s a risk of thunderstorms overnight and active
warnings for the fire zone just a block west, so the possibility is there, yet I opted not to pick the garlic
scapes for some reason. Sometimes feelings are just feelings. Sometimes you
go with them. The scapes have curled around like sleeping bears or thoughts of bears,
but this is the first time I’ve grown garlic and I’m not sure they’re fully grown, thus the hesitation, not that they need to be mature to be worthy. I suppose if it doesn’t storm we’ll grill
them tomorrow. No amount of oil will keep the pointy ends from burning. That much I know already.
I have a feeling a bear
will unearth my potatoes in the meantime, drool baby potatoes as it heads for the chives. The
bear is puffing. I’ve had this feeling for days. The reduced air quality must
be causing Smokey Bear flashbacks. Regardless, the chives are especially nice
this year, perhaps thanks to the ash.
I have a feeling this
feeling in my chest will pass.
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