It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves
Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and
venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
My grandmother was a gardener. She produced fruit and vegetables like America produces fat kids. She supplied her family and the rest of the neighborhood with greens aplenty. And she did it in the dessert of Utah. She's getting on in years now, and her capacity to bend and weed a bit limited.
We're attempting to carry on the legacy a bit. It's not a huge garden. It certainly wouldn't sustain us, but we might have a spare zucchini or two to share in a few months if bugs don't kill them like they did last year.
Nora eats spinach.
Snap peas and beans
Owl decoys don't really work. The birds are still getting our strawberries. Does anyone have a real owl?