This morning in the paper there was a wonderful article about the vegetable garden the Obamas are planting on the White House Lawn. I just got to say it: Michelle Obama makes me happy. In the article, she says everyone, including the President, will have to weed. Well, except maybe her mom. She said her mother will probably just watch and say, "Oh, that's lovely. You missed a spot." The job of grandmothers everywhere ...
Yesterday I picked up a pile of gardening books from the library. Since Will and I are going to be flower gardeners this spring, I'm trying to get excited about flower gardening books, which seem to mostly be in Latin, but I'm not there yet. In a book by master gardener Allen Lacy, he begins by comparing becoming a gardener to having a religious conversion. One day you don't care a thing about dirt, the next minute it's your whole life. I can see that. And this may be the year I'm struck down on the road to Damascus myself. Get a few Cosmos growing in the backyard, who knows what might happen to a girl.
Now, I love books that preach about backyard farming--get you some chickens! Spread their poop around! It's all good! Vegetable farming books excite me to pieces. Probably because fresh tomatoes and beans right off the vine excite me to pieces, too.
The only thing that concerns me about the Obamas putting their garden in already is that the frost date hasn't passed yet. The Man says since the Obamas are from Chicago, they probably laugh at frost dates the way President Obama laughed at school being closed in D.C. because of a little ice. Well, his arugula won't be laughing if it drops below 32 on the last day of March, which has been known to happen, even below the Mason-Dixon line. But then, it is the White House lawn. They probably keep it heated.
Double Deckers, Double Gussets
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