Some pics I took this evening — per Roberto’s request:
A Christmas gift from my mom and bitter sister. Made in China.
I read the instructions and put in two plants.
The poor man’s topsy turvy: a 2 liter bottle, dressed with old shorts — to protect the roots.
Yes, its’ a litter bottle, but I washed it out with really hot water. (That was before another pipe broke in the attic.
You never forget macrame, and that pant leg covers my exceptional work. You know all the wingnuts are exceptional, right? Why have them on your radio show if they weren’t?
Birds have been shitting on my BLACKberries. I blame Kevin.
Out of the flurry of flowers on the lemon tree, only a few potentially bore fruit.
First squash flower. Others are coming.
Some sort of Naked tomato
The newest bed. I plan to make one more — maybe two more.
Lunch! (Radish sprouts)
Moon plants are special. They remind me of my dad. I loved my dad more than he loved me. The day before he died, he hated me. I forgive him. I couldn’t do what he wanted me to in the time he allowed. Then he died. I planted these moon plants for him and for me. They are amazing.
For my dad. I gave three of the stronger plants to my mom. She told me last week that they didn’t look as ugly. She supposedly can’t hear anything . . . . .. . but her cell phone.
My lunch for tomorrow. I don’t really know what is in that can, but a Korean student gave it to me, so I will give it a go.
The rest is some blackberries and the salad i picked from the garden.
One more push and the garden will be complete.
The pups are looking forward to walks along the bayou.