I first clicked “like” in 2010. I have no idea how many times I have clicked it since then, but it surely numbers in the thousands.
When we lived on the farm, I clicked “like” in another way — with a pair of sturdy wooden-handled pruning shears. I clicked my way through the damp, foggy winters, up and down rows of vines and trees. Those clicks may well have numbered in the hundreds of thousands.
It is still dark out, but already this morning I have clicked “like” a dozen or more times.
I have also had breakfast while sitting on the floor.
Now I have decided that unless I am pruning, I will not click “like” anymore. . . . I will click “love.”
December 17, 2021
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Breakfast, Diaries, Journals, Love, Memory, Morning, Our Old Farm, Pruning, Social Media, The San Joaquin Valley, Vineyards