chocolate chip |

So I started a new project this weekend. It involved getting dirty and a whole lot of waiting for results. I planted my very own strawberry plants. My granny would be so proud of me! *gloats* I’m both excited and nervous about the outcome. See, I’ve owned two plants prior in my lifetime. A good friend of mine bought me a Poinsettia for Christmas once. It was lovely but lasted 2 weeks. The next year he bought me a cactus thinking it would be impossible to kill… Ha. I showed him. That lasted 4 weeks. Then I was told that I shouldn’t own a dog or have a child. On the contrary, dogs and children are programmed to remind you of their existence.

Rob was my assistant gardener. Which in fact really means, he did three quarts of the work: uprooted most of the weeds, toiled the soil, trimmed the rosebush that was threatening half of my planting space, dug the holes, planted most of the babies and watered them once we were done. I managed the operation, made a minor contribution to the labour and took an impractical amount of pictures. Yes, yes. I know exactly what you’re thinking. We make an effective team.

My greatest concern right now is the weather. Its bipolarosity continues to wreak havoc with many a plan of local Houstonians, I am sure. Saturday’s 78 degrees was welcomed with board shorts, tank tops & sandals. Then there was Sunday night. We were heading out to make our weekly grocery run and got “female-dog” slapped in the face by an impertinent rush of 38 degree air. Made my eyes water and all. Needless to say yesterday’s weather barely fluctuated. PLUS… there’s a winter storm warning and we’ve received gifts such as freezing rain; sleet and gross Dallas like temperatures – no offense Dallas. If you’re new and reading this you may think I’m an insane person grumbling about 30-degree weather but where I come from is called paradise, with typical temperatures of 80 degrees. All the time. I know I’ve complained a considerable amount this winter but spring is almost here so today marks my final gripe. Promise.

On the upside, the possible ruin of my plants won’t be any fault of mine, this time. Anyhow, I’ll see what happens and pray that I at least get to taste ONE fruit of my… err… our labour. In the mean time, check out our new babies.