Over at Art House America, Christie Purifoy writes about life, death, and . . . vegetables:
I look forward to the beets for weeks and then, inevitably, I ignore them for a moment only to find that they have grown to the size of softballs and must be fed to the chickens.
I tell myself they are only vegetables and this is not the end of the world, but there are too many days when it feels like exactly that. As if overgrown vegetables are only the first sign of the chaos that threatens everything.
Cucumbers never stop growing and this old house never stops crumbling and my children never stop changing, and I never do manage to quite catch up on everything I think must be done.
I never do manage to hold and keep and preserve the things that matter most.