Harvest Exchange

I've been spending my extra time at the community garden. Not that I have a plot or am helping anyone with theirs; I just like being there; in the garden. It's alive. And full of owls, at least one bat and a parade of happy dogs.

I keep taking pictures. Of the borage, the bees in the borage, the yellow lupine that appeared one day when the day before I know it wasn't there. The gnarly quince tree holds a special fascination as do the volunteer plants on the steep side of a fallen tree.

I wish I could take a picture of the way the trumpet lillies smell, warm and heavy but the fence gets in the way.

Last night we ate green beans growing beneath a persimmon tree on the public side of the fence. The sun was setting and we leaned on a warm brick wall. I marveled at a handsome plant of zucchini, Findhorn sized cabbages and a row of tomato plants. Then I picked a couple more beans.

There was a harvest exchange at the garden on Saturday. The first. I missed it. I don't have anything to exchange. Well, maybe some mint, one serrano pepper. I could prune the rose geranium. But it doesn't matter. I'm so excited a harvest exchange is happening. And they're happening all over Marin.

Just knowing makes me happy. Like being in the garden.