Beets, maybe.

They conveniently rallied around the Devil today, inviting him out for lunch, asking him for help with stuff, hanging out, being brothers as when one of the brothers in the Collective is hurting the others will always, always swoop in to help. By the time I came home from work, sweating right through my dress, done with customers, done with shit, done with life, they were having a grand old time tearing up the garden, sleeves rolled up, shovels and the tillers in overdrive.

I stopped and watched for a moment, smiling, though it hardly reached my face for being so tired. I wished for a picture, as I could have had it developed in black and white and added it to our history. Conquering the new world, or putting down roots, would be the caption.

In all honesty, these days we practice Irish gardening. I throw a handful of seeds towards the dirt and harvest what comes up. It works a little too well sometimes and some years it's a lot of work but with time management and all of this help we'll figure it out and come out ahead. Gardening is a very peaceful thing for me, and I don't care if it's flowers or food, it does more than pills, counselling, distraction or time.

I'm really glad they picked him up where I left him off. He needed it. I needed it too.