Coping

There are times when the fact that a third of people and two-thirds of the supposed best judicial minds in your country have no allegiance to its most obvious principles can really get to you.

Today is one of those days — when it feels as though my innards are churning from the upset at all that is happening, as if they might try to come out of my body.

All I can do on a day like this is weed the vegetable garden, which has been neglected for much too long. Realize that black raspberry season has arrived. And find small gems that don't belong in the vegetable garden path, but that I will leave in place and step over because a bit of not-exactly-belonging is what makes for a better place.


The raspberries — Bristol Black — have to be absolutely black or they're not ripe and they won't come off in your hand.

Borage reseeded where it wanted, nowhere near its original location 20–30 feet across the yard in a non-vegetable bed. But the blue flowers and pollinator action are worth the trouble.

A violet-flowered petunia, Petunia integrifolia, reseeded from some I planted in the vegetable garden several years ago. There were none in the area last year or even the year before, I believe. But suddenly this year, there are several.