Write about: the wildlife habitat.
So, due to circumstances that seem to be beyond her control, Genevieve won't be back until Saturday at this point. Which is problematic, since I was counting on her being with us at the market because it's guaranteed to be a busy one between the remaining strawberries and the newly arriving cherries.
It's still possible that she'll be able to return in time to help us out, but if she's not I'm sure we'll manage. Just would be a little less hectic if she's there.
This morning the garlic patch was cleared of its final weed stragglers and then I got started on our onions. After dinner I wanted to clear out the area around our raspberry bushes, as we'll be picking them tomorrow and I didn't want to have to wade through the weeds in order to do so.
Weeds, weeds, weeds...
There are places, certain areas on this planet, that are so fearsome to behold that most men would continue on as though they had never laid eyes on them. The rare few will stop and contemplate them for a while, but they know better than to draw nearer.
And of course there are the fools who choose to investigate. To dive headfirst into shallow, rock-strewn waters as though they are immortal.
It is a clear sign that an area of the garden has been ignored too long when it begins to resemble one of these areas. When weeding feels less like pulling unwanted plants out of the soil and more like the destruction of wildlife habitat.
At least now, after this evening's work, our helpers are less likely to say things like, "You have raspberry plants? Where?!"