Last night I opened the freezer and on the top shelf, eye level, was a large clear bag of precious jewels of fruit: black raspberries, peachy cantaloupe, red raspberries, green grapes, strawberries. We harvested the fruit in the summer, and I forgot we had these jewels.
This was a dream, but how true it is, isn't it, that we forget our treasures?
Last night we put up the snow fence, in the dark. I have on a lime green tank top, a white long sleeve sweater, a green cardigan, a yellow hooded sweatshirt, a gold jacket, and a red overcoat. Two pairs of gloves. Not that it was cold. At least I didn't have a purse.
In the dark, standing high on a step stool is my husband, swinging a sledgehammer to drive in the fence rails. He looks like a coal miner. Is it deep enough, he asks, and I shine a light on the ground. We stretch the orange plastic fence along the rails.
It takes one hour to harvest our coal. The fence is up, it is straight, and if we're lucky, little snow.