Since I started blogging in November, I haven’t had to balance gardening and writing until now. This week has been just perfect. In the 70s, sunny, gorgeous. All my seeds are finally coming up, after all the fretting and checking them every few hours. Perhaps you remember the Frog and Toad story where Frog starts some seeds and screams at them and jumps up and down in frustration. That was me. Then Toad comes and tells him to read them a story and sing to them, and then the seeds sprout. I have to find that book again.
Someone in town was giving away strawberry plants, so I got 10 free. I lovingly planted and watered them. One even had a flower already. Visions of organic strawberries with whipped cream danced in my head. Maybe berries with homemade yogurt. I went out the next morning and they were eaten down to the roots. So we’re putting up a chicken wire fence. Well, N is. On Sunday he says.
I’m telling you, gardening is one heartbreak after another. Sort of like parenting, really.
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