The Sorta-culturist

Today I got lessons from the one-and-only master of the backyard garden, Grandpa!

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Nobody, and I mean nobody, grows vegetables and herbs as well as he does. Oh I know that this garden may not look fancy, but what comes out of it is amazing, and I just had to see for myself exactly how it’s done. Here I am examining the squash for ripeness (and to smell it to see if it was worth peeing on – it wasn’t).

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This is IT. Tomatoes, squash, beans, kale, eggplants, cucumbers. Holy mackarel.

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I was curious and wanted to get an up-close and personal view of these fine veggies. Luckily Grandpa trusts me enough to let me walk through the garden.

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Here Grandpa is explaining his theories about compost. Who knew that it was so amazing? Mama, can we have compost at home? Hm… on second thought that may be difficult in our little apartment. I’m not willing to give up any of my personal square footage and I’m pretty sure the kitties won’t either. Next!

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Gotta get in there to check out those pots and how they work. I just may learn something today.

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Grandpa went one way and I went another. I needed to see for myself what was up. Grandpa is a garden genius, Mama goes nutty for his tomatoes. I approve of anything that makes Mama go nutty.

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See this? Grandpa is apparently good at many things, even more than growing tomatoes. He made this play house. See the roof? Yep, that’s a truck camper top. Clever, eh?

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Thanks Grandpa for an amazing day. Thanks for trusting me in your house not to break anything (which I didn’t). Thanks for the air mattress for me and Mama to sleep on. Thanks for letting me rest on your porch and only dig up a little of your flowers. And many thanks for the smoked pork, which I inhaled as soon as I got home. YOU THE BESTEST

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Love,
Bogart

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