My native plant-knowledgeable friend says I should take out the young, leafy green trees that have been popping up in my yard. Those

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The heirloom tomatoes always draw me in. The other produce in the grocery store all seems too perfect, like airbrushed models on

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Chopping, chopping, chopping, I get so tired of chopping vegetables that somedays I fantasize about walking out the kitchen door and never looking

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Weary from hiking in relentless heat, this day another scorching pearl in a string of white hot coals, I collapse beneath a stately Sycamore.

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