Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The crazy garden lady

My sincerest, yet giggly, apologies.  I used my phone and Swype text to write this post and forgot to proof read it. I have corrected the errors, and it no longer reads like a Mad Lib.

Sunday morning, I woke to rain hitting the window sideways. Then, I checked my e-mails, Facebook (don't laugh but I get most of my news there), and had a mild start. My potted plants, along with my postage stamp sized backyard, were flooding. I dashed out of bed, pulled on my holey jeans and polka dotted rain boots, and went to rescue my plants. It's official. I'm a crazy garden lady.

While moving the plans that don't do well with too much water like my aloes and Daphne (I don't know what it's actually called, but it's scientific name started with Daphneus). I raked the leaves that were trapping water on the patio and dug a small trench to let the water run out under the gate. It was pouring, and I was out talking to the plants.

A few years ago, I would have let them drown. Actually a few years ago, they would have already been dead, scorched my fiery black thumb of death. Sometimes, I amaze myself with the new and unusual ways I exhibit insanity.  Of course, I'm also impressed with myself for keeping my plants alive over several years.  That's a huge improvement.

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