This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
6/30/2021
Dear Farm Journal,
On rare occasions, when necessary errands or appointments absolutely require it, I find myself amongst a cityscape. Even the urban areas I once called home feel foreign to me after adapting to rural life on a dead end gravel road. How do I feel so bewildered by the once familiar? Why do I feel so anxious? I stroll the strange concrete forest of streets lined with topiary margins. I follow my curiosity to a city park, a technologically advanced version of the playgrounds I experienced in the 90s. Do I want to take a turn on the mini zip line? You bet! I wonder how the CSA pack out is going back at the farm without me… either going fine or in level 5 meltdown. I can’t do much about it from this zipline, so WHEEEEE!!
~Joy
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.
This afternoon, with the second week of CSA boxes packed away in the cooler, I take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. I pause to observe the mosaic of textures and tessellations my senses cipher; the paper-thin husk of a ground cherry, the bristly hair on a pig’s back, the supple surface of a flower petal, and the asperous edging of a leaf. Each article in our objective reality is embedded with a code, a set of frequencies our senses can perceive as “matter”.