There are some nights that are God awful nights. Nights are short and should not be God awful. They should be a few hours of puttering and bliss.
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My garden is beyond invaded by slugs they have hole punched every inch of green in it.
Tonight someone who knows about gardening pointed out that I am in dream realm. Nothing grows, she said. It’s too cold. It’s BC, she said.
Yes I wailed, yes it’s BC and that means a ten month gardening cycle. Doesn’t it?
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