Just watching the dogs of Argentina freed my soul.
Inside, it’s very cold, and we’re cleaning up. It feels good.
Six years ago, I moved from a house in suburban Montclair into an 18th floor apartment in urban Hoboken. As a reminder of the garden I was giving up, I brought with me a nondescript chive plant in a cheap orange pot which was reminiscent of clay but was only plastic. I stuck it outContinue reading “WHAT I LEARNED FROM THE CHIVES ON MY BALCONY”