Thoreau for your Saturday…

Meanwhile my beans, the length of whose rows, added together, was seven miles already  planted, were impatient to be hoed…What was the meaning of this so steady and self-respecting, this small Herculean labor , I knew not. I came to love my rows, my beans, though so may more than I wanted . They attached me to the earth, and so I got the strength like Antaeus. “The Bean Field”-Walden-1854.

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pic from tim’s bean patch! thanks for reading tim’s weed patch today.

 

 

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