The northern hemisphere spins further into a season of unlit algidity and I take comfort in the warm glow of the greenhouses; thin transparent walls drawing another season from the sun. I slip out of my bibs and boots and let the vigor of green wash over me. If I close my eyes, I can be a child in the tropics or a cat on a windowsill, bathing in the brilliance. With a hoop house and an inventive imagination, I travel the world over and draw life between the soil and the sun.  





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