The Idaho Garden
Previewed fortunes...
I don't know how to aim. But there's something tickling my brain. Who are these prolapses? These suppositions of the mind? These colossal premonitions? Haha, I wonder if they're any bigger than those mounds we used to plant the watermelons in.
Rows of sunflowers are nearby, next to a wire fence. Their seeds became kind of ugly, but when I learned their faces always followed the sun... I looked at them different.
We were supposed to eat the peas with the pod, but adults are wrong sometimes. Peeling the shells apart is part of the journey.
The carrots were maybe the least remarkable. Why do these ones have the wiry thing on the end? A bundle of the green parts that stick out of the ground feels soft and surprisingly nice in the hand. The crisp, cool smell... the fresh dirt... that's a good memory.
The only part I remember that didn't actually happen was when my brother threw a snowball at the snow monster who was hoeing the snow-covered ground. Needless to say, he got mad and I woke up.