words are my habit.
Then Grandpa said firmly, “Kindred, the seeds need us just as much as we need them.”
So Kindred reluctantly got up from her napping spot underneath a most perfectly shady tree and followed her grandpa row by row placing seeds into the freshly tilled ground.
She said nothing, but her thoughts were loud and clear as she looked at me, head tilted, lips pursed, eyes piercing.
Chatting isn’t idle; it’s informative. It quickly gets to the nuts and bolts, skipping the how-are-you-but-I’m-not-listening fluff and jumping right into what matters as they take stock of life from their perches in the evergreens.
