The bare earth outside the yurt is healing up. These dandelions just happened to be uproarously bold and in my line of sight as I was doing some jobs.
And they’re really sprouting all over the place, popping up through the cracks where the grass succumbed the the endless to and fro in the wet, wet winter.
As we made it muddier and muddier, so we tried walking around the edges until there was just a big, wide expanse of mud. Then it dried out in the sun.
Now there’s been a bit of rain it’s all healing up. Can’t wait for these bad boys to go fluffy so I can take a moment of childish innocence to blow the seeds off the stalk and watch them float away.
Some days that’s all that there is to say. I’m tired of arguing over Covid and misrepresentation of data and the unfortunate validation of David Icke’s BS by getting booted off Youtube. FB is a pain in the neck.
I’m also tired of trying to work out the ending of this current short. It’s not the Easter story I think I would have liked. But I’ve got an idea about an egg now, and a few other tasty treats that keep me awake before bed.
So anyhew, somedays it’s just easier to clear the mind and contemplate the dandelions as they sprout up out of the dried earth, like miniature little sun bursts. All they have to do is wait for the right time, get a little water and a little sun, and up they pop.
Just like me.
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