Happy Monday and hope you had a good weekend.
For us, the weekend included the First Spinach Harvest.
Yeah, it was a lot of spinach.
The spinach we grow is Malabar Spinach which is stupid easy to grow. Plant seed, ignore, harvest, ignore more, harvest more.
We (and by “we” I mean Dad took the stems out to the compost bin and I did the rest) made two kinds of spinach. Yum.
We also had homegrown beets.
We did not eat the weeds (which were the balance of the weekend’s “harvest”).
The Puppy has created a new game called Get Mom to Get Up and Move.
That’s not what it’s called.
We were outside weeding. Well, I was weeding and he was sniffing weeds. Let’s call the spot where I was sitting Point A.
That’s a dumb name for a pile of mulch.
The Puppy started wandering East of Point A.
I was following my nose!
When he got to the edge of our property, I called for him to come back. He ignored me and kept slowly wandering toward the east.
I was following my nose, not my ears.
I got up, pushed my way through the bushes that he’s small enough to walk under, grabbed his leash, and led him back to Point A.
After a moment or two, he began to wander in southerly direction.
Important sniffing had to be done.
I kept an eye on him, but when he reached our property line, I told him to wait for me.
My tail tried to wait for you.
His tail may have wanted to wait, but clearly his nose was in control and he continued to meander while I got up and fetched him back.
We had an important talk about staying on our side of the invisible lines.
The squirrels don’t have to!
No sooner had we finished our talk than he began to wander West.
I wanted to see what was over there today.
Rinse and repeat. If he could have figured out how to wander up, I’m sure he’d have done that too.
All in all, it was hard to get much weeding done….
Eventually, the Puppy gave up, flopped in the sun, and contented himself with letting his thoughts wander.
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While most of the neighborhood was still sleeping, the Puppy and I went for a walk this morning.
You may ask, “What the heck were you doing up at an hour when everyone was sleeping?” Good question since I’d told Dad he couldn’t wake me until 9am (which I thought was a Very Generous Compromise).
The answer is I have no freakin’ idea.
My eyelids sprang open of their own accord this morning. I tried to close them; they refused. I tried to go back to sleep with my eyes open; it didn’t really work.
So I got up.
This pleased the Puppy greatly and we agreed that—after a cuddle—we should go for our morning meander.
The big white dog who rules his side of the fence with an iron bark was still inside (and presumably asleep because we didn’t hear him).
Cobra’s family was up (we could tell because the garage door was open) but even after several minutes of puppy whining Cobra himself was nowhere to be seen.
Roxie’s family was getting ready for another garage sale. They’ve been helping a woman they know clean out her house after her husband died. Roxie’s dad says he feels like he’s in a TV commercial. Every time he thinks he’s done, the woman calls and says, “But wait, there’s more!” and gives him enough stuff for 7 more garage sales. I think he’s truly happy to help but truly done with garage-sale-ness. Roxie was inside, so the Puppy settled for sniffing everything within leash range and graciously allowing (and by “allowing” I mean insisting) that people scratch him.
The big activity this morning is that we are going to have a Vexit. That is, the vine (I’m guessing poison oak) that has now caused poison-ivy-like welts on my face for two summers in a row is being evicted. Well, murdered is more like it. We plan to spray it so it dies down to its roots. (And as I say “we” and not “me” you are correct to infer that your father is actually helping to spray something dead. Shocking but true. I think it has something to do with the threats I made and the constant whining about the itch. And perhaps looking at a wife with face-bumps.)
Hope you have a great day today!
Last night Dad and I were talking about what we wanted to do this weekend.
Dad: So we’ll get up in the morning while it’s cool and weed and plant some of the plants in containers.
Me: Wake me and I’ll kill you.
Dad laughed. But he didn’t argue.
This morning at 6:59 I was sleeping happily. If I recall correctly I was dreaming about clothing—really interesting spring suits, I believe.
At 7am:
Puppy: Woof! Woof woof woof!
Puppy: Woof woof woof!
Me: Mmrph.
Dad: ZZZZZZZZZ
Puppy: Woof woof woof woof woof woof ARF! ARF!ARF!ARF!
Me: Seriously?
I got up and went downstairs.
Puppy: Hi! You’re here! That’s great!
Me: What was all that about?
Puppy: What?
Me: All the barking. What was that about?
Puppy: What?
Me: You woke me up.
Puppy: What?
Puppy: Hey, you’re here. That’s great!
Me: Good morning, sweet thing.
Maybe later he’ll tell me. Right now, he’s not talking.
Me to Dad: How much did you pay him?
Dad laughed. But he didn’t argue.
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Speaking of colossally bad ideas, my friend Sue pointed out our next contender in the Are You Kidding Me? category.
Naked Gardening Day.
It’s a thing. It’s a thing on the first Saturday of May.
It is not a thing we will be doing at our house.
According to the Huffington Post, it is a great day to plant your seed(s). Don’t worry–it gets worse.
I am so appalled at the concept, I don’t even know where to start: Sunburn? Mosquitoes? Mulch and grass in places mulch and grass shouldn’t go? A poorly aimed weedwacker? Embarrassed petunias? People showing too much winter paleness?
The possibilities are horrifying and horrifyingly endless.
Although just because you are unclothed does not mean you are a hoe.
I talked to the Puppy about Naked Gardening Day.
Puppy: Fur.
Me: Fur?
Puppy: Fur. You need fur.
Me: It’s summer. Why do I need fur?
Puppy: Sunburn. Mosquitoes. Mulch and grass. Embarrassed petunias. Skin that’s blindingly pale. Fur solves the problems.
Me: Fur.
Puppy: Yep, fur.
Me: And the weedwacker?
Puppy: Run. In your fur.
The first people to participate in Naked Gardening Day were Adam and Eve. Even the snake was unclad according to most accounts of the story. They enjoyed N G Day right up to the point where they discovered the joy of custom fit fig leaves.
Not sure what you’re going to be doing next Saturday. But I know what I will not be doing.
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