Each day I find new things to do around here. Though today, not that many.
Picked up by Mario at 7:45, drove to Ted's, and hand-weeded about six short runs of chile. Then we grabbed hoe-length, four-pronged narrow metal rakes, and tilled the soil between the chile runs. Mario said this was done so that the soil absorbs much more water than it would if untilled. Seemed reasonable. The work was physical and continuous, but not strenuous, so I liked it. We sang some Vicente & Sabina songs as we tilled.
A bean and chard lunch later (the additional boiled chard Adán recommended didn't make much of a difference), I joined Mario at Nemesio field, where we weeded, by hand and hoe, the corn runs the wind and rain made us abandon yesterday. We finished the corn, moved on to sweet peas (which took waaay longer to weed), then Mario decided to stop mid-run. He asked me to pick up eggs, I picked a dozen, came back to the cabin, fried some chard (with too much oil, I think), ate it quarter-pleasantly, threw out the stems, cooked some rice and lentils to compensate for the oily chard, then wrote a birthday letter poem for Leila. And now I think I'll wash all up and ready for rest.
Picked up by Mario at 7:45, drove to Ted's, and hand-weeded about six short runs of chile. Then we grabbed hoe-length, four-pronged narrow metal rakes, and tilled the soil between the chile runs. Mario said this was done so that the soil absorbs much more water than it would if untilled. Seemed reasonable. The work was physical and continuous, but not strenuous, so I liked it. We sang some Vicente & Sabina songs as we tilled.
A bean and chard lunch later (the additional boiled chard Adán recommended didn't make much of a difference), I joined Mario at Nemesio field, where we weeded, by hand and hoe, the corn runs the wind and rain made us abandon yesterday. We finished the corn, moved on to sweet peas (which took waaay longer to weed), then Mario decided to stop mid-run. He asked me to pick up eggs, I picked a dozen, came back to the cabin, fried some chard (with too much oil, I think), ate it quarter-pleasantly, threw out the stems, cooked some rice and lentils to compensate for the oily chard, then wrote a birthday letter poem for Leila. And now I think I'll wash all up and ready for rest.
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