On the joy of sitting.

Yesterday, I bought 36 broccoli seedlings and three forty-pound bags of humus. I spent all afternoon hauling and digging and turning, breaking apart sod with my hands and crumbling cakey earth. I'll spare you the pictures, but take it on faith that there are now 36 broccoli seedlings rooted in that trampled patch of earth in the picture, just to the right of my shoes.

The evening featured activity of a different sort: a three-bar, three-show, three-beer Wednesday evening, complete with two-mile round trip on unforgiving sidewalks in not-quite-broken-in-yet sandals. When the time came to roll into bed and pop in a movie, I was asleep before the opening credits.

So you might be able to expect, then, that today would find me propped up and limping just slightly on a sore hamstring, nursing a minor sunburn and toting my water bottle around like a fifth limb. It's another gorgeous day, but friends, the broccoli is in the ground, the garden is turned over, and, blessedly, there is nothing to do now but enjoy that fact. And sit.