I noticed this week that the oxalis I call sourgrass is sprouting up, already a foot tall and heavy with rain, in various places in the garden. I don’t think it is blooming yet, but as I am reminded by looking at my old photo at the bottom here, it does begin its celebrating while the fruit trees are still dark and bare. So it could happen soon. The Iceland poppies are already showy.
Today was mostly drizzly, but eventually the clouds gathered into distinct groups and let the sun shine through; they stood off to the sides looking majestic. Turning our gaze in the other direction, let’s give a thought to the “farmworkers down under,” who may slow down in the winter, but they continue making their contribution to the lovely world, God bless them.
THE EARTHWORM
Who really respects the earthworm,
the farmworker far under the grass in the soil.
He keeps the earth always changing.
He works entirely full of soil,
speechless with soil, and blind.
He is the underneath farmer, the underground one,
where the fields are getting on their harvest clothes.
Who really respects him,
this deep and calm earth-worker,
this deathless, gray, tiny farmer in the planet’s soil.
-Harry Martinson
Gladsome Lights 