Garden Variety

I've never had much of a green thumb. So I can only imagine my recent (limited) successes are due to a gene that either kicks in with age or is guiding my soil covered hands (the dirt French manicure is the look I'm rocking this summer, thanks Mimi).

I had blamed not having a garden the last few years on our dog, who used to love few things more than digging a good hole and destroying anything in sight. See: Baseboards, an entire couch, the trellising around our deck in our old house, and two juvenile fig trees as just a few of her victims.

Now, she is a sassy senior but a senior all the same. She's always been a pretty good friend to most wildlife (except for possums, she does not like possums, and that makes me sad).

So, this year, I finally got brave enough to start planting. Maybe some tomatoes to go with the herb garden. Maybe some cucumbers to go with the tomatoes. Why not peppers, and tomatillos to do salsa. Well, squash is easy too, right?

Thanks ADHD. Now I have a veritable Noah's Ark of seed specimens in our backyard, surviving and thriving to limited degrees of success.

My gift has been a 10–15 second hummingbird encounter. Shortly after deciding to toss these hornworms I had the first little avian bumblebee I've ever seen in our Atlanta yards come about six inches from my face and just stare at me, cocking its tiny itsy little delicate neck.

Cleo has never been happier than as an urban farm dog. Who knew.