by Meriah Crawford

In early spring
I watch my
peas come up,
except where something
went digging
for snacks.
I plant carrots and parsnips,
Potatoes and squash.
Green beans
and collard greens.
Too many tomatoes
in not enough space.
I make a diagram
to aid rotation.
Add compost,
pull weeds,
intend to label
but never do.
I aspire to
cold frames,
saving seed,
complex meals.
I long for pumpkins
uneaten by 
stray dogs and squirrels.
And then, in winter, 
the seed catalogs come.
Bliss and blisters and 
dirt under my nails.
And always,
so much gratitude
that I am able to buy 
what my labors 
and my garden 
don’t provide.

photo credit: Tania Malrechauffe, Unsplash