As it cooled down just a little bit this evening, Richard and I headed out to weed the Sweet Potatoes. We had kind of let them go. But there they were amid the blanket of straw, surrounded by weeds. We danced around the beds, Richard bending on his knees and me sitting on my bucket. We pulled and pulled. Fortunately, the weeds came out easily.
But I sat there and I had a wonderful dialogue with my Sweet Potatoes. The ground was dry but it was soft, so the pulling was easy. I just sat beside them and told them I love them so much. There they were, doing the best they can to feed my family. And my culture continues to practice in ways that making growing food difficult. They just don't know, or refuse to. I apologized, but mostly the love just overflowed. And the love came right back to me too.