Will The Turnip Fields Be Ready

It has been an interesting week. A weary paralysis took hold along with winter. This is last Tuesday's snow. The gardens I tend are all closed and the weather has been largely below my minimum operating temperature with intermittent snows. I mostly stopped moving in a dazed and confused world.

Snow is the only thing that slows the traffic, but the road to nowhere has been far to busy of late as the world goes into hiding. Can you even find refuge in a wholly broken world?

And will the Turnips Fields be ready in time? My wood burning deer hunter has been chopping and gathering large loads of wood post hunting season. I watch in a body pained by the view of the physical exertion involved. I dread the very idea of having to burn wood to stay warm.

A sunny, cleaned up opening in the forest continues to expand. I look forward to growing more fine produce in soft fertile ground. That, this old body can do.

The plan is to have more good healthy food to supplement meager incomes closer to the Sister's house when they retire and spend more time here. There will be more mouths to feed and one hopes more of a willingness to cook it. I will be inviting myself to dinner.

I need full sunshine for that, so the forest has to go. It is good that it can be used to keep a man's family warm. Even better, I don't have to pay to have it done or do it myself.

This land has nurtured humans since before recorded time. Previous inhabitants move on. The land retains its powers of sustenance.

I wander slowly, half paralyzed in cold before the next snow arrives to cover the land, lucky to have the time and a place to hide in a deadly and infectious world.

I was ready for the snow. The interior trim boards for the reset fixed loft windows were cut and are ready for staining.

The books are done. The receipts are organized. When I put in a new ink cartridge the tax forms can be printed.

Slowly, with weary heart and bones, I look to a future with bountiful Turnip Fields, that they may bring sustenance to my people well after I am gone.