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Bodacious Potato

Green Leaf, originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

“What? …look at that.”

I had been in Crestline for almost two weeks, and, when back in Lake Havasu, I walked into the motor home, there lounging all over the printer was this luxurious green plant.

Remember it? Started out this way. 5th of May.

By the 10th of May, it looked like this.
…and its rooted underside was so.
And when I walked into the motorhome last Friday, I saw this veritable jungle. It is so big and has such a spread, that afraid it would completely take over the empty space in our motor home, we chose to move it outside on a table under our awning.
Jerry told me where in the shed was his tape measure, and helped me measure this beauty. It extends more than 66 inches; a spectacular specimen.
Isn’t that amazing? Is not life wonderful. In these my now advancing years, I’ve yet to lose the wonder. I remain in awe as I think of the simple ebb and flow of our world. Seedlings and marshbanks, tubers and moonlight. Sudden rain and languid summer days. What a world. What a life. Glad I’m here! Glad you’re here!
Glad my cupboard sweet potato is thrust through with such life that pushing aside every impediment, every encumbrance, every disability, every excuse, he has grown into a village green. Never can tell; if I look out there tonight, I may see miniature elephants and tigers roaming about, grazing under that lush green canopy. 🙂 Let you know if I see anything.
My devotional blog is here.
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The Surprising Progression of a Day

Sprouting Sweet Potato, originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

They’re better for you than white ones, you know, so I reached in a cupboard in my motor home where I knew I had one more I could bake for Jerry and me to eat for dinner. As I grasped the long tuber, my hand grazed across something lacy, and when I looked, I saw our dinner had taken on a farming specter.

Perhaps it would have been okay to eat had I carefully trimmed the potato, but when I saw those sprouts, I recalled having sweet potato plants in our home when I was a child. From its place on the outside table, I brought this green pot, filled it with water, and am hoping for the best. I can’t remember exactly how to do this–seems we inserted toothpicks to suspend the potato over the water. Not sure.

Then it was off to Crestline again, and when we were approaching Victorville and the Cajon Pass, we saw this heavy appearing cloud of fog lying in the valley ahead of us. Wisps of fog began blowing around us, and within a ten-minute period, the temperature dropped 28 degrees–from 78 to 50. It was uncanny.

The fog stayed with us as we turned onto the mountain road to take us to Crestline, and as we passed trees that had turned now into ghosty beings.

Sometimes the fog would clear, then close in again. It was clear as we passed this station, but the sight was so ugly, I turned my head.
I had brought a few groceries, and as I opened the cupboard to place a couple of onions in the onion container, I was greeted with this sight. A forgotten bulb startled me, but he is so pretty, I took him out, posed him and snapped his picture.