Kale seeds dried out are ready to harvest. Inci had uprooted the plants before I arrived in time to beat the plants on the table cloth in the shade. The millimeter sized black balls fall out and roll around. We now have 3 jars full, ready for autumn sowing.
The rays of the setting sun hitting the seedheads of Scabiosa rotata shine life halos. The landfill under the viaduct is still wild, left to itself. We can see which plants are pioneers.
Kardelen, last visit you wantered into my room and picked out a windmill I'd had for years. I didn't let you take it home, promising to work on it: at home I made models and tested them out. Even strung on thread it spins fantastically. But when the wind is too strong, it rapidly twists into a mess. Work in progress!
When this lamb broken its leg, it had to stay is the village, with a splint until the bone healed. Meanwhile, it followed its carer, Seda. "Seda had a little lamb, its fleece was natural cream. Everywhere Seda went, the lamb was sure to go..." until this evening. We were waiting for the flock to return from its long summer day on the hills, this teenager enjoying chomping away at the grass. Ten minutes later, we went down to join the dusty bleeting mass. Seda then vanished: this lamb needed to undertand who it needed to follow from now on. The next morning she too would be off for the long wander. By the way, all of this survived the Eid celebrations. Oktay, the kid last year, had grown into a strong male; ritually slaughtered after a good life freely roaming the hills.
During the last month's solid rain, a strong flash flood descended around Seda's house, and hit her garden! Patiently, she washed down each plant, leaf by leaf; well worth it. She's now harvesting, right on her doorstep.