Last week we planted carrots and greens. I sat Eliza in the dirt and moved quickly making rows in the soil I’d turned the week before. As I sprinkled seeds, Eliza grunted to be picked up. “Just one more row,” I told her over my shoulder.
Her grunts turned to whines then to cries. It took us all day to plant one bed. Saturday we planted potatoes and onions. In the middle of planning the potato patch I turned to look and Eliza had a handful of dirt in her mouth. [more]