The Bubble
I've been avoiding it, my hoophouse, like I do the blast of heat when I open the door on the bread I made that requires a pan of water on the bottom shelf of my gas oven. Steam burns. Yes. Imagine that. Being in the hoophouse in the summer is akin to roasting yourself with wet heat. And for what? Nothing much at this point in the growing season as we wait for September to arrive next week. Most things are dead or dying and everything is overgrown under this 3,000 square foot bubble of plastic. Reseeding is happening, which is nice; but if I took you down to this place where I most often find sanctuary - you would, along with me, wonder, “ Why do you find sanctuary here ??” I think people feel this way about Church Refugees, “Why would you leave the church for…this?” Right? Well, I know why. What is funny now, and never makes me laugh, is that when I dreamed of this 3,000 sqrft space I KNEW would be perfect. No pest pressure, no animal pressure…a controlled environment, actua...
