Armando Anthony Corea

I live in a box. Daily I allow other boxes to touch mine. Most of them are totally useless. In spite of that, I let them be in my life. It’s called routine, what’s inside my box can barely be altered by all the crap coming from that persistent set of boxes. They choose and speak out about everything, they influence you, they want to change what you keep in your box. I know they won’t ever be able to do it. What I keep in my box is too precious to be touched. It’s no surprise that there are worlds that won’t ever collide. Or is it? Boxes are bubbles now. And they are getting smaller every day.


The second day of February. Same story all over again. The rain is stronger today. Is that possible? So far everything in the garden is thriving. All this water is a blessing for the plants, soon spring will be here. The cats are sleeping, they don’t feel like going outside. Life seems suspended, in fact that is a mere illusion.

Netting for security

We need security. We desperately look for it, we plan, sometimes life plays with us. Shows us our insignificance. Like ourselves, plants need to be protected from their natural enemies. From the sky, some of them ravage with no mercy. My poor little plants need some help, no more free breakfast from now on. As in life nets aren’t real definite protection. They are an attempt, strong evidence that you want to survive.

Gust of Wind

Strong winds, heavy rain, first serious test for the garden and the small plants. Broken branches, the small leaves from the jacaranda trees are everywhere. Surprisingly, the plants seem to thrive and enjoy the rainwater. Too much rain to go out, cleaning the mess, starting the new beds will have to wait; it’s the right time to go on with my germination plan.



I guess I’ve done it on time. If I had waited one more day, frozen vegetables 🥶 … Now I’ll have to do it again and again, it’s been very low temperatures. The plan includes a daily trip into the sun for my babies that I keep in the garage. Before dark, they come back into the shelter, the no-dig beds are protected with cardboard. My cats follow me everywhere in the garden, they especially love the new no-dig beds. The tiny plants face death when they maraud the space. My cats are always eager to help me, I’m trying to tell them that the beds are no-dig, they think otherwise.