I'll be able to enjoy this storm. Everything that can possibly be done to secure the house and larder has been done. It will be a cold storm too, I know, people in Minnesota up to their cheeks in snow, don't understand how someone in Los Angeles can sparkle at a high of fifty-seven degrees. That, for us, is cold.
The tarragon is coming up from last year, a first and the thyme lived through the dark days. I have a neighbor with a huge evergreen tree. During the dark days, the vegetable garden gets little sunshine. Of course my neighbors could eat the leaves on their tree, but no. Why worry about someone giving you fresh vegetables if you fucking trim your fucking tree. That is, if my stupid fucking neighbor reads let alone blogs.
I digress, the storm is coming and I am prepared. I have stocked the cupboards and boarded up the hatches. The laundry is done, the fire, ready for the flick of a switch. My day will be spent writing and watching the torrents unleashed by Mother Nature. Perhaps, just perhaps, in the wisdom of natural law. The wind might topple or lean heavily in the direction away from my house, the tree that serves no purpose but to shade my onions, garlic, parsley, Swiss chard and prevent me from using one half of a beautiful organic garden. I would gladly give them gifts of gratitude. Presents of fresh organic eggs, wholesome sugar snap peas, carrots and maybe to sweeten it all, flowers fresh cut from the flower garden. But of course, that fucking-good for nothing, bitch of a tree that they have, that does only one thing only and that is to shade an active garden because my fucking neighbors can't get it together to have the god-damn thing trimmed, once in its miserable fucking life.
The storm is coming and I'm ready.
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