Monday, July 14, 2014


Remember when I planted Squash City in a bunch of clay and then a few things died and I was like EAUGH NOTHING WILL GROW THERE IT IS MY OWN PERSONAL GOMORRAH BUT IN THE BARREN LAND WAY NOT THE SEXUAL IMMORALITY WAY THIS METAPHOR HAS GONE OFF THE RAILS. Remember that?

HAHAHA that. Squash City is out of CONTROL and that's only half of it. We've had a couple of patty pans

and a lemon cucumber

and a spaghetti squash that I think I picked too early. Our backyard has been a mosquito gauntlet (you get your garage key out before you leave the house because you can't stop in front of the garage door. You'll die) so I've been sprint-watering it and ignoring it and my tomato plants have kind of become one large plant but I can't get out there long enough to prune them and today we noticed we have PEAS. Like, suddenly: peas.

Look at those. There's arugula in the middle there but I obviously didn't think this through and now I can't get at it. Live and learn. Eleanor never gets tired of going to check out the garden. Eleanor never gets tired of ANYthing. I was thinking the other day about how much I love having young children, and how there's something to be said for five- and eleven- and even fourteen-year-old kids, but two-year-olds are a precious beast.


Constance said...

Remember when you planted that garden? Geneva was what, two days old? You, my dear, are a precious beast yourself. And I am very lucky to call you one of my own. Your young self and Eleanor would have gotten along splendidly on so many levels. So alike my sweets.

Amanda said...

Especially two-year-olds named Eleanor. They are the best of the best.