It didn’t rain…for years, really. The garden, neglected for weeks while we packed, is parched; the hose no longer trickles into hand-dug furrows that surround our wilted tomato plants. Is this how they make sun dried tomatoes?
Heat waves ripple before me as I search the canyon for the dogs. We used to have chickens; they are gone now. Should have instituted coyote-watch sooner. Those days shimmering before me are just a mirage, they are ending. Even the birds have packed up and moved on, taking their song, taking life. The silence is foreboding.
Will this place, this piece of earth miss the hands that brought it to life? Will it be nourished or ignored? We move on in our lives oblivious at times to the lives we leave behind as we leave our home – as we leave San Diego and head north. I’ve heard it rains in the Pacific Northwest. Interesting concept.
Summer shimmers
The earth – dry, it thirsts for water
Who will tend that piece of earth now?
Never a glance back,
We move on…north, and
leave it behind.
There is a new season coming
A new direction….
Never at a loss for words... 