Ode to the Georgetown Inn

I'm home again, after several days work ing in Washington DC with Georgetown University and the Center for Lobbying in the Public Interest. I have never appreciated white sheets, pillows and comforters so much as this week, after a muddy spring here on the prairie. Man, woman and dog, no matter how we try (and that dog don't try very hard) can't help tracking mud into the house. There was no mud in my room at the Georgetown Inn. How lovely!

But I am happy to be home. Jess Deane tried to disk the garden while I was away, but the tractor and disker wouldn't fit through the garden gate. He's going to buy the new tiller he's been wanting and come back to try again.

Tomatoes, peppers, celery and kale are growing happily in the bunkhouse - soon to be ready for transplanting. The Broccolli is struggling a bit.

It's extra-winding today so we probably won't burn our property this evening, but the fire season has definitely started. You can smell it, and occasionally there is a line of flames across the horizon. Things will "heat up" even more as we get into April.