Patch Work

 

Some of my favorite conversations have happened in the rhubarb patch. Tonight was with my mother: she pulled stalks into a heap and I hacked each end with a knife, leaving the leaves to smother the weeds.

I filled her in on office politics and she caught me up on her phone call with a cousin. When we were done I went home with a sackful of food that will turn into jam and pie and crunch, goodness that will last through winter.

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