The Sunday Porch Orchestra
Fourteen neighbors, fourteen mismatched instruments, one wide porch off Agua Fria. Nobody auditions and everybody plays. Passersby stay for the second song.
Planted spring 2024. Now 300+ regulars.
Field notes from the forest floor. Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Small, strange, well-timed kindnesses that keep blooming after he leaves.
Savory is better than sweet.
Counted at the heart of the oldest tree in the grove
Alec's ruling on the matter, cut cleanly through every ring. Salt, herbs, smoke and heat. The forest agrees.
Three things Alec planted around town. All of them are still growing.
Fourteen neighbors, fourteen mismatched instruments, one wide porch off Agua Fria. Nobody auditions and everybody plays. Passersby stay for the second song.
Planted spring 2024. Now 300+ regulars.
A rack of free umbrellas on Canyon Road, lent on rainy days. They come back with thank-you notes tucked inside, and sometimes with a second umbrella.
Planted monsoon 2024. 61 notes so far.
One big pot of savory green chile soup, passed door to door around the neighborhood. Whoever gets it has to refill it before passing it on. It has never once been empty.
Planted winter 2025. Still warm.
Alec checks it every morning. Something in there keeps an eye on it too.
Or write directly: alec@mossandmarigold.example