picking veggies & fights with piggybanks and pitchforks

it was perplexing to me. for a week i had felt as if i was being followed by some type of shadow.

when the breeze wasn't blowing, i felt a rustle in the bushes. when the winds were whipping, i sensed stillness in the shade. it had me confused and frankly, concerned. was it my paranoia? or perhaps just a figment of my imagination? nothing, it is nothing, i told myself as i woke up early this past saturday morning on the shores of long island, the same shores reaching all the lands on this earth.

but i was soon proven wrong. like most sunny sabado summer mornings, i met my friend sarabelle at the lovely quail hill farm in the small hamlet of amagansett for some time frolicking barefoot in earth's warm dirt, picking fresh vegetables from the brown and fertile land.

it was in the row of yellow cucumbers that i first noticed my nemesis hiding like a lion ready to pounce. the culprit was my samurai piggybank, crafted in minnesota clay by my own naked hands. i smiled at this glistening pig, but in a flash it vanished.

moments later this ceramic hog appeared to be floating or dangling from a "treat the plants gently" reminder. jeepers creepers, how did this little piglet become so skilled in martial arts?

then at last, high noon crept up on me within a patch of glistening orange carrots. it was there, that this samurai swine camouflaged itself in the glory of fresh tubers.

"Carrots!!" it exclaimed, "That's right, eat 'em! You'll only see me with more clarity! I am your loved samurai pig, the one you crafted years ago, while wearing only a loincloth, sculpting me, making me, creating me!!!"

Shocked and confused, weirded out and perplexed. I grabbed the pitchfork I had been using to harvest carrots and pointed my trident at my piggybank.

"Don't move!" I barely grunted, "You are my samurai piggybank! We used to share tips earned over plates of palak. You were my Fort Knox, safe guarding dollars doled for daal. We sipped mango lassi together out of one straw, laughing like children, enlightened by life!"

Within milliseconds, I felt the emotion of a thousand chopped red onions. Tears welled in my eyes and through the haze i saw hope. My samurai piggybank waddled towards me. The two of us embraced. We were, again, friends.

Tired from an emotional roller coaster, I smiled and looking down with the pitchfork still in my hands, I let it go, hoping this implement of nourishment would be returned to the ground to give health and eyesight through carrots to all on earth.

'Cept the thing was, at that moment, I felt a pinch on my foot, a hole at the top of my sole. Two stitches later, I realized had stuck myself with a pitchfork.

just another crazy day on earth...

love and health to all...