Twisted my left shoulder almost useless today, but went down to the harbor for seaweed anyway, because high tides were about to reclaim it. Seaweed adds a primordial host of nutrients to the vegetable garden (and thus, to me), and rids the place of slugs. So the truck and I pull up to find two Santa Domingo farmers from up the coast doing the same thing.
It was the first time I’d seen anyone else gathering seaweed there, so we struck up a talk in halting Spanish while I tried hoisting pitchforks of seaweed with my useless left arm — whereupon my new friends took my pitchfork and filled the truck for me. What beautiful people.
And what luck! Or was that another miracle wandering about dressed up as a coincidence?
