I love flowers. I love herbs. And I love vegetables. I love trying to grow my own.
Last fall, we had some dirt work done around the old guest house, which had hundreds of daffodils planted around it. As they were leveling the land around the house, we had them place a pile of dirt aside so that we could fill some sunken places in our cemetery. (Really, you shouldn’t think about that one too much.) In fact, Levi was playing “King of the Hill” there today (not in the cemetery – on the mound of dirt).
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| The old guest house is in the background here. This rather unattractive, overgrown mound of dirt will eventually be transported to our graveyard. Right, Gary? |
Before spring had sprung, I found some little bulbs in this mound of dirt struggling to sprout some greenery, and I thought, “Oh, these are buttercups! Let me plant them by the barn! Let me plant them in the graveyard! Let me plant them EVERYWHERE! Goody, goody, goody! They will be so pretty!”
Now, fast-forward one month:
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| What the world is THAT?!? Don’t tell me I planted… |
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| Yep. Wild onions. You mean I planted wild onions everywhere?!?!? You can’t be serious! |
David expresses his delight in the following photos:
Okay. So I’ve transplanted weeds all over our farm. And I even convinced the boys to help me with that little project. Not exactly what I had in mind. But if we get desperate for a meal of super-strong, smelly onions, we’re set.
Have you ever done something like this?!? Or is it just me?
At least I made myself laugh. And David’s expression here is just priceless. Sometimes it’s worth it to embarrass myself.