The past few weeks have been relentless. Long hours and constant demands, with every day bringing it's particular problems. Coming home - sometimes in the dark, to a moody valley.
Noticing that others had visited, I watered when I could.
Every week six days of sweating and swearing and heavy lifting.
Trucks full of furniture, smoke and mirrors.
Schools, churches, bars and hospitals.
We had very little time to ourselves.
A quick ginger gimlet, the stroke of a paw, trying to keep up with a glut of tomatoes - sharing them with the starlings. Glimpses of lives very different from mine.
I had to remind myself, sometimes, that I am very lucky.
While we were out, a beet grew and grew and grew.
A fairy tale beet, a show bull of a beet weighing in at 940 grams.
Head and shoulders pushing out of the soil.
Once slaughtered, yielding a slice of moreish cake.
The beetroot is there in every bite, dark and earthy.
Cinnamon and poppy seed.
Cinnamon and poppy seed.
It's good to be home.
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