Squash and dreams of faces. Life slowly unfolding in front of me as I sit quietly and notice the various shades of gray the world is divided into. A strange winter this year here, in the desert. One of rain and clouds. Grayness, a mysterious change in the atmosphere. Lost are those wonderful blue days instead the sky is restless and the wind keeps lapping at it’s edges urging it towards the horizon. Nomads. Long, strange lust to know what is around the next corner. Pollinators absence and butterfly conundrums, worry and thoughts of deep adaptation. The garden fruitful and after years of building soil, worms toiling away in our compost. Dirt. Live, rich dirt, full of insects and microorganisms.