Garden Obsessions

It’s one of the good things about having gardens and lots of ’em. Everyone can indulge in their obsessions and sometimes no one else notices for quite awhile.
For example, it took Reina’s obsession with the enormous frog in the koi pond for us to notice the frog had an obsession of his own, this lovely Pink Water Lily.

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The clock is ticking (quite literally) on Ben noticing my obsession with petite vegetables. Just back from Ireland with dozens of Flower Essences and a good many funny stories, he has taken up the helm of the GHF kitchen. This afternoon, he wanted me to bring in all the tomatoes so he could make a pasta sauce for tonight.

Do you think he will notice my obsession with miniature vegetables when he learns that my description of having found a couple dozen tomatoes for him was sort of misleading?
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My obsession with different varieties of Flower Tobacco is bringing more pleasure. At least to me. And this may be good since I might be banished out to this garden to eat worms. Soon.
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But really, the obsession I wanted to discuss today is Jim’s. He disappeared about two days ago down to the compost structure we use for kitchen scraps. Its been a losing battle to keep every animal in a five mile radius out of this bin. Riley in particular has a penchant for disappearing right after someone has taken a juicy compost pail down to the bin, only to return a few hours later with bad breath and a serious need for Digestive Woes.

I believe I have documented Jim’s previous obsessive attempts to fortify and protect this compost bin from Riley and every other animal known to man. And of course, Jim’s most recent noble effort deserves a nod of recognition because tonight, I have no doubt, this Bastille of compost prisons is going to be stormed. In fact I know it, because Riley just walked by and when he belched, I am sure I heard him say, “Vive le jardin! Vive les chiens! Vive le COMPOST!”
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Unmodified structure on left. Bastille prison on right. Good luck to all garden patriots. I will be up at the house sharing a festive meal of an 1/8 cup of pasta sauce with Ben and the rest of the fam. If they’ll have me.

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