One of these days…
I, sincerely, hand on heart, am going to buy a hot tub.
A hot tub for days like today.
No, my saddle is not sore (that’s next week!), but I’ve been trying to put in a garden.
Years ago, one existed in the same spot… but once the owner became too old to tend it, they seeded it to grass.
I’m now digging up that grass with my new rototiller and starting it all over again.
The rototiller is great, a Husqvarna with a Honda engine, but it still calls for muscles. Muscles to help it regain traction when it stalls out in “ruts”. Muscles to slow it down when its power wants to pull me along. Muscles to turn its 230 pounds around in corners and edges.
And did I tell you? Mice, IN MY HOUSE!, have eaten almost all of my heritage peppers and tomatoes I had started.
I set traps all around my poor little plants, but those dirty boogers scrambled up and ate them anyway.
My plans for a heritage garden have evaporated, and I’ll have to buy some Early Girls in town. I’m sure they won’t have Cherokee Purple tomatoes in Worland!
On that pleasant note, I’m taking my sore muscles to bed…
Death to Mice!
(Elsa, being the Good Dog that she is, shares my Death to Mice sentiment! Another reason to love English Shepherds!)