[This is a dream.]
11 May 2012
Over the past few days I had been going back and forth between somewhere and a greenhouse. I had claimed an unused section of soil and began planting plants there. I found some plants outside and some were left over from greenhouse orders, just left sitting in their plastic containers. I had a few wispy, leafy ones, and a few with thick, dark green leaves—possibly kale. Some were planted in rows, and others were set alone.
One day I was in a field spending time near a large construction vehicle with a female friend of mine. It was a bright sunny day, with diffused atmosphere. All the textures were smoothed out by the immensely bright noontime sunlight. The field was cut in large portions: some tall grass remained, but most was quite short. It was all very dry. In the distance by the greenhouse, the large oak trees looked healthy. I think I found some moss in a small plastic container. I felt the need to put that moss over with my other claimed plants. I went there, wondering on the way if anyone had noticed or cared that I’d been planting and taking up space.
I dug a small hole in the moist soil for the plant. It seemed too deep, but I put it in anyway. I put it next to and kind of under the leafy plants, so it would get some shade. I then noticed there was a long hole in the dirt where the row of plants used to be.
I went back the next day and found all my plants removed; all that remained were scrappy holes in the dirt. Perhaps some people were going to cook with the kale, but they didn’t know that I was making a small garden for those plants.