My Garden

Brittany and I planted a garden in May. I love the garden. Some would describe my love as borderline maniac obsessive. I check on it several times a day i.e. every time I leave my home or return to my home. I think about it as I fall asleep at night and when I wake up. In the past few weeks there have been (it seems like) dozens of tornado warnings in Omaha. Not only do I (and my reluctant friends/roommate) retreat to the basement of whatever building I am in, I worry about my garden. And I think into being a protective shield around it. This imaginary shield has somehow been very effective. My garden is usually, mostly safe. My normally happy approach to the city creatures has been twisted into negative thoughts towards the beasts that nibble on my helpless plants. But I’m learning to share.

I just love it. That’s all.

Advertisements

6 Comments

Filed under garden

6 responses to “My Garden

  1. jara

    aww. your garden. did you read the little piece in the recent issue of paste about gardens and deer? i’ll try and bring it to work tomorrow. i’m thinking about having fried green tomatoes tonight for dinner. i’ll swing by and grab some from the garden. mauauauaaah.

  2. daphnedel

    you are going to have such nice tomatoes! they’re big already. i am jealous of your garden plot. i love that you love it so much. πŸ™‚

  3. Monica

    yippee! blogdom part II! your tomato is gorgeous! so are you! love love πŸ™‚

  4. brit

    a pepper is born!

  5. Nawal Ghali

    Gardens are great teachers! I am glad they got you as a student. Enjoy!
    Love you forever and for always,
    Mama

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s