Brilliant. absolutely brilliant.
It made me think of my grandmother, how she would always do her gardening with a babushka on her head, and an apron covering her old, tattered clothing that should could patch again and again, so why throw them away?
The land where I would garden after she passed quickly stopped growing bountiful harvests like she used to get it to... I think that part of the Earth missed her footsteps and loving hands...
That's gorgeous, birra. I like the thought of the earth missing her touch.
So beautifully descriptive, hard not to get caught up in wild imaginings.
To describe Grandmother Gray from her 'expert holes', brilliant!
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