Shovelfuls of dried loam went from wheelbarrow to my small raised bed. The rotting leaves and grass broke up under the shovel that my brother pierced into it.
Fat earthworms sped away to conceal themselves. Two threadlike millipedes wriggled across the soil.
As the crusty ground resulting from winter was blended with the rich compost, the little plot began to look promising. Now I was glad I had purchased these few vegetable plants that the greenhouse had nurtured thus far.
With my brother’s help, I planted my tomatoes and peppers the same day I bought them instead of waiting for “the right time” which usually comes late and often isn’t timed right at all.
Although I grumbled at my brother that I should be fixing a late supper, by the time I went in the house, my daughter had been forced to take action.
Homemade tacos awaited me. Good things do come to those who wait – and sometimes to those who plant a garden.
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