Sun salutations

Every morning I forget to do yoga. OK, so not really forget, but when I pour myself a cup of coffee and look outside, the green pulls me out. My downward dogs may be suffering but my Bright Lights kale is doing spectacularly!
I wander through my garden, picking out milkweed and throwing it to the side (where it probably spawns more milkweed, but over there, those milkweed flowers are pretty. But only over there), I find snails and one two three smash them under my flip flopped foot or find a stick to pierce their little shells. It sounds demonic but with the life and death battle going on in my garden, you gotta pick sides and I am pulling for the broccoli. I'd like to think that crushing is an easier death than the old pour salt and watch him bubble trick, but even if its not I cant think of such things when my mustard spinach and salad bowl lettuce are munched to bits by mr. snail and his shell-less cousin. I've also tried pouring beer into small cups set strategically throughout the hills and troughs where they smell the divine scent of yeast and hops and come running, er, slithering, but throwing a virtual suicidal kegger for the beasts gets expensive when you are serving fine Maine microbrews.
I wander through the tomatoes, checking on the green globes hanging from the vines. I taste the kale, nibble on lettuce, marvel at the squash plants overtaking the garden. I had been warned that you only really need one zucchini plant, one cucumber, one pumpkin. But when the little guys are just seeds, they are so incredibly small and it seems inconceivable that a month later they could swallow up the bean plants several feet away, overtake the eggplant, dominate the onions. And its happening already. I feel like an inconsiderate mother trying to convince her child that he doesn't need new clothes as he pops his buttons and rips through the seat of his pants. But I'm hoping the squash and beans will play nicely when they're a little bit older, a little more seasoned.
My garden is my yoga, my meditation. I'm happy in the dirt.
Even if my sun salutations aren't what they used to be, I salute the sun every morning from the eves of my gardening shed.