Lovely lunch in which I shared my almost got a dog story. "Let's go to the SPCA," says friend, telling me she knew a medium sized dog was transferring in that very day. Off we went. The dog had been adopted before even getting his little paws on the bus. As it happened another friend was volunteering and put the squeeze on me regarding two older dogs, desperate for a foster home, with a meadow just like mine, to romp away their last days.
"Let's look at them," says first friend. The meadow would work perfectly but no way those Great Dane/donkey mixes could fit in my house. Perhaps I can offer a day in the country every now and then. Twenty minutes later we walk out with my khaki pants covered in black dog hair.
"Bye" we trill and I head for the garden store. I pick up two bags of steer manure not noticing the teeny tiny hole in one bag until I have a giant smear across my pale blue clad bosom.
I smile weakly at the grocery store clerk as she takes in the dog hair and manure. I tried, I really tried.
|can you see the peas?|
|the greenhouse is in business|