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  • One last visit, one last time. I saw the neglect the ruin, the decay. I saw ruined plans. Unforgiveness. Beauty. Time. I saw it all when I visited my old garden today.
    Above the decay, I spied a curious thing. Among the brown stalks I saw proud green growing. Just standing upright. I inspected the cause.
    I knew it.
    Just where I planted that seed in the spring.
    I pulled them up with increasing excitement, one after another.
    They were of good size but what was their taste?
    I bit into one, dirt and all, to see what the flavor was.
    It was good. Pungent, but not bitter, sweet, but not overwhelming. How could this be?

    One by one, I gathered them up and let that sentimental dirt cling to them as long as need be.
    I swaddled those orange lovelies in newspaper to carry them home. Dirt, green stalks, and all.
    I was surprised as I stood with my armload, a bouquet of sorts, of carrots resting in the bend of my arm.
    I thought I looked like a real beauty queen. I always wanted to be a beauty queen.

    I am blessed to wash dirt from my cutting board, to wring my knife dry of muddy slurry, when there are so many things to be washed away.
    Today I cook for you those carrots, I impart their orange into everything, the orange that is love. Love is all that won’t seep through your hands, you know.

    I feed you in thanksgiving. In food, deed, and song.
    I know there is more to come.
    Let death be for the dying.
    They wouldn’t want us living that way no how.
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