My feet sink into the garden muck. The rain has been coming and coming this summer. The humid Minnesota afternoon sun beats down on me, true to the eighty degrees the thermometer red line shows. I look over the short white garden fence and Matt and Ben are playing over at the play set in the other corner of the yard while I conquer the weeds in my swampy garden. I can only wrench them out if using all my back muscles, their roots clenched into the dirt like strong green and brown wire hands. I ... Continue Reading...