Saturday.

Did I tempt fate yesterday morning,

by declaring that I would get some tomatoes transplanted.

 Ones that I started from seed

 with intriguing names like Black Krim, Persimmon and Costoluto.

Cause those are the ones I lost.
 

 Here’s the culprits,

 caught red handed, or is that green mouthed.

 They chomped on twenty of my home grown plants.

I still have the tomato seedlings they couldn’t reach,

 like Sungold Cherries, my beloved Green Zebra,

 Brandywine, Early Girl, and Marvel Stripe.

After three hours of digging mushroom compost into 7 of the garden beds yesterday,

I came home to find myself locked out of the house.

Rats!

I had to pee. I’m hot and sweaty,

have wild hat hair, tired, extremely thirsty,

have my ugly garden shoes on,

smell of manure/mushroom compost

 and am thoroughly annoyed at myself

 for leaving the keys inside on the counter…

 well, there’s more to that story.

They had actually fallen out of my purse in the truck.

But I didn’t ~know~ that.

 R is at work on an overtime catch up Saturday

 so I call him from the cell phone

and ask him to come straight home after he’s finished at noon.

 But he has an errand to run first,

cause the canvas repair shop is staying open past noon for him

 to pick up a repaired zipper piece of the boat canvas.

 (Don't ask, it was a bad week for the car and boat.)

Ok, I can wait an hour.

There’s  100% fruit bars in the freezer in the garage.

There’s also a porta potty down there.

I can rinse off the sweaty dirty hands with the garden hose.

 I have my camera to play with.

 I have a well faded and loved porch swing to rest on.

 All is good. Because I've hatched a plan.

After lunch, we went to the garden nursery

 and bought some new tomato plants,

and a few flowers thrown in for good measure… or deer food.