ghosts of the garden, pt. 2

Yesterday’s remains looked like old, bleached bones to me. Today’s papery tomatillo husks reminded me more of snake skins, all dried up and left behind in the dirt. But then there’s that intricate lacey map of veins, so like blood vessels, like a record of the life that coursed through this tomatillo ghost town.

74/365: tomatillo husks

04.17.13 seasonal limbo

The landscape is strewn with winter’s remains. Spring is still on the edge of town. We shake our heads, survey the damage, suffer the in-between. Nothing to do but wait it out. Snow, tonight, again.

107/365: tallgrass remains