I sank my fingers in the soil

Today we went to the farm, and I finally met the mythic Farmer Dave. He is most tall. First we set watermelon seeds in trays, then K went outside and hoed at thistles while Tiger and I moved dirt around in the big bin in the greenhouse. We planted imaginary orange roses. Later we met red chickens, black chickens, three-day-old chicks, four bunnies, and a number of tractors, some with incomprehensible attachments.

On the way home K dropped off some paperwork at the local day-care center. Tiger and I stayed in the car. I took the opportunity to read him TS Eliot's "The Naming of Cats." I don't think he really understood the poem. Eliot has that effect on lots of people.


Today's earrings: pigs, peas

Bedtime reading: _L. Frank Baum_, Katharine M. Rogers

The Waste Land

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
- - T.S. Eliot

Today's earrings: camels, lizards

Bedtime reading: The Great War and Modern Memory, Paul Fussell