The ground crunches—hopefully for the last time.
Water like crystals hangs on the edges. Another frost stalking our plans.
Too early.
The delicate babies, planted with care—lost. Withered. Blackened. Burnt and eaten by the frost. Too soon.
Back to the plans. Sow some more. This time, keep them indoors. The greenhouse.
It was so warm—we were fooled. Spring had arrived.
No—not spring.
Fool’s spring.
We’re the fool.
Like the delicate leaves lost in haste—lesson learned.
Winter. Fool’s spring. Winter, part two. Then spring.
Kale and the hardies may pull through. But the fruity, delicate leafy salads—gone.
This gardening shit… I need to slow down.
They grow when they grow.
Nature is my friend—so don’t rush her.
Let’s see what comes from the second time around.