Estimated reading time: 2 minutes
It’s 9:00 am, and we are outside working our little fingers to the bone!
I marched into the veggie garden at dawn (OK, 9 am) carrying a zucchini seedling like it was a royal baby. Mary, meanwhile, stood beside her rose bushes with pruning shears, a leopard sunhat, and the expression of a woman prepared to negotiate with thorns.”
“We have until the thermometer hits ninety-two,” I announced. “After that, we could turn into soup.”
I dug furiously. Unfortunately, the garden hose had opinions. It whipped around, sprayed my socks, slapped a tomato cage, and knocked my seedling sideways”
“Mutiny!” I shouted.
Mary clipped calmly and said, “Try reasoning with it! You reason with the toaster.”
“That toaster respects me,” I replied!
At eighty-eight degrees, I finally planted the zucchini, patted the soil, and whispered, “Grow large, my green torpedo.”
A bumblebee landed on Mary’s hat. She froze.
“Don’t move,” I said.
The bee inspected her fake sunflower, judged it unworthy, and flew away. Mary resumed trimming, but one thorn grabbed her sleeve. She yanked free, stumbled backward, and sat directly in her wheelbarrow.
I stared. Mary stared. The zucchini, newly planted, seemed to stare.
Then the thermometer clicked to ninety-two.
“Inside,” Mary declared, water dripping from her shorts. “Immediately.”
I saluted the zucchini. “Hold the fort.”
As we fled toward iced tea, the hose gave one final heroic twitch and watered the roses perfectly.
We were back inside at 10:14 am, door shut and AC on full blast!
