What I do know is if I take any more from my patch (I only take the leaves) they will be completely naked. However! I happen to know where a lot of it grows and occasionally take a walk to pluck a few dozen leaves. There are two varieties along the way, one smaller than what is in my yard and one much bigger. The chickens don't care, it's all manna* to them.
|The green on the ground is the patch of purslane (she wrote alliteratively)|
Here are some of the pieces and parts that wrap my heart up with invisible zip ties.
|A look toward town.|
|Some fisherman didn't need all his bait. Why not toss it in to do some fish some good?|
|Mangroves in filtration mode. They cannot filter plastic bottles or bags though.|
|This rock was sitting on another rock. Thanks, whoever did that.|
|The one mangrove looks so snaky! The ones hanging down are not quite to the ground and were swaying in the breeze. It was a mangrove ballet.|
The chickens were thrilled. I am a purslane goddess. After feeding them, I was looking out in the bay and saw Samuel sailing in the briskness of the afternoon breeze.
|Life is good|
|Red sky at night, sailor's delight, red sky at morning, sailor's take warning.|
Have an (un)tarnished Thursday. Do something therapeutic.