I have been toiling in my garden, mostly struggling, that is planting things and watching them die. I got sick and tired of fighting the weeds, the fungus, the sun, and I made a decision. If I would have weeds, let them be weeds I can eat, so I took the flowers of my basil dried them, and then scattered the tiny little black dots where ever they would fall.

I had had enough; to hell with you, garden. I had given up and was willing to try anything. And like having women throw themselves at you when you are taken, the damn things decided to grow. It’s like the things you want to grow know you want them to grow and don’t, and when you don’t care they seem to beg for your affections. That’s it, I don’t care about you either, you tomatoes, you corn, you zucchini. I don’t care about any of you. Are you buying this? Damn, I just jinxed it.