Metaphor

I can’t do much today. I live in the desert and have a major ant colony about 20 feet from my door. If that were the only one, I’d be chill, but it’s not. Agnes is small and blind and I’m a helicopter mom, so I look at swarms of ants with distrust. I’m also a buddhist, so technically I don’t kill things. Instead, I have a bag of organic insect stuff that I sprinkle around the exterior of the house. It smells like spearmint. The word “kill” is on the package. Even so, I’m not sure there will be a day when I’ll be able to camp outside under the stars. I notice when I try and keep them at bay, more ants rally around. It's freaky. 

I dug holes today. I started early. I’m not an archeologist by training, but the mounds on the other side of the fence have gotten the best of my curiosity. 

Green plastic beads

Rusty tools

Roofing material

Bricks

Astroturf remnants

A small plastic stake identifying a plant 

Golf ball

The previous owners used the back of the property as a dumping ground for downed trees and limbs. I’m working on rehabilitating it. It will take some time, but some of the debris has turned to mulch and maybe I can plant things.