Ghost pumpkin seedlings looked down on the mf from vegetable heaven. They shook their first true leaves and called him names.
The mushroom farmer is eager to discover if his chickens have survived the deluge.
He had a renewed sense of purpose now: to make his sidewalk produce giveaway better than the neighbors’.
Say this for the mf, he had spotted the bedraggled purple cauliflowers and delicately transplanted them into this spot where they were now not merely unbedraggled but also thriving, thriving, thRivNG on a cold peak COVID-19 pandemic Southern California winter morning of more clouds than sun; rain hanging in air barely mid-50 degrees Fahrenheit.
Additional fallen Canary Island date palm fronds are required for the chicken coop, where the hens got drenched overnight in a lightning storm centered a few miles to the south of the cozy bed in which the mf kept his little doggie Blip company during the thunder. Blip quivered but did not shudder, comforted asContinue reading “The Mushroom Farmer, Chapter 16”
The mf’s go-to ethical rule of thumb is that we don’t have to repair the entire world, but we have to do our part.
Is the mf doing his part?