the family farm

This is almost how it began. Raised beds.
Planted, covered with straw, not hay.

Hay = bad.

The sides of each bed were planted with Red Clover seed.

It's nitrogen-fixing and stuff.

Nitrogen-fixing = good.

This isn't actually IN the garden.

But, just so you know, we have grapevines.

But not enough to make enough wine.

Drat.

The Swiss Chard.
Is.
Yummy and pretty.

Autumn Beauty Sunflowers.

One of the onions grew a flower.
Neato.

The corn.
It's Silver Queen, if that means anything to you.
It means Super Yum to me.

This is not in the garden, either.
Well, it's in my Front Yard Garden.
If you want to be picky and stuff.

Not ripe tomatoes.

Ripe tomato.

Notice the lack of the plural form.

Almost a zinnia.

Actually a zinnia.

Mammoth Dill.
It's getting to be mammoth.
Almost as mammoth as moi.

Cabbage.
As if we don't have enough gas without it.
In this time of inflation, we can all appreciate cheap, clean gas.
It's all about economy, baby.
Or yummy cabbage fried in butter.
You decide.

Beets, oh beets.

How I do love thee.

Peas.

Right. That'd be more peas.
Because you can't really have enough of those guys.

Howden pumpkin flower.

Howden Pumpkin.

Not an actual dead animal.
However, every time I almost step on it, I throw up a little.
Because usually when I almost step on something,
it's actually a dead animal.
Thanks, kitties.

The End.