garden hands

the evening takes me to the garden.

a few hours of bubbles, harvesting, reading, music. soon my hands look like this.

i always start off the season wearing gloves. but find them too binding. i would much rather feel the grain of the soil, the fuzz of the leaves, the smoothness of a tomato picked from the vine.

the dirt washes off. my nails can be cleaned. but, the feel of laborious summer evenings in the garden will be forgotten in the fall.

so gloves off. always.