It all depends

In the mornings before going out walking with Toto, I have been ambling down the tunnel between the grapes and the Gravenstein, snapping off grape tendrils that reach for the tree and tossing them into the compost bin.

There is generally light at the end of the tunnel and it is the morning light in the lower garden beds. Their best exposure is eastern, so it's bright early down there.

Moving soaker hoses takes me down to the end of the corn block and I can turn around and look back the way I've come. The barn shows as just a hint of red at the other end of the grape and Gravenstein tunnel.

I may work my way back along the potatoes, pulling weeds for the chickens' breakfast, or along the peas, having a breakfast of my own. Or perhaps along the tomatoes, tucking their new growth back into their cages.

It all depends.