Death comes with farming. Unless of course you are only dealing with veggies. Do carrots cry when you bite them? I think not. The past week and a half has seen some losses. A hen. One of the guineas didn't make it past the ride home. And yesterday, we had two lovely little barn kittens delivered to the house. Lovely until one met my over excitable boxer. Now it is hopefully on the mend, but J and I went back and forth on whether or not to put it down. I didn't even have the chance to sex it. Yesterday it wasn't moving. Today it is slowly pulling itself around. This is farmville folks.
That and the ungodly plethora of weeds is enough to make anyone question their sanity. I know all of it will become manageable at some point. Rome wasn't built in a day and all. But it is a little disheartening. I planted five packets of carrots and not a one came up. I have a lovely bed of green weeds. The onions are beautiful, as are the potatoes. The herb garden, peppers, tomatoes and squash are cooking along. And I have several watermelons sprouted. There is hope.
This weekend, black plastic sheeting and a guinea coop are in the plans. And picking up a hand me down rooster who has seen better days.
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