Here's Farmer Elaine (not her official title, but I like it) at her insta-veggie lab on our back step.
Friends and neighbours stopped by on the weekend and let me gush about my vitamin-rich paradise sponsored by the Young Urban Farmers. A few visitors sounded skeptical about opening one's yard to "strangers", but tapping on my laptop to the music of Elaine and Rosie's backyard laughter is the least of my fears.
Other, darker perils do concern me. Bet you a bushel of tomatoes that this very minute a raccoon is sitting in our silver maple, emailing her four thousand best friends about an upcoming all-you-can-eat buffet at, oh, say about peak-harvest time.
Doubt I'll get an evite.
Farmer Elaine, with tricks up her slightly-soiled sleeve, isn't worried. I'm keeping an eye on strange movements in the silver maple.
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