Baths are Pointless

When John's parents were here, his dad alerted me to the fact that I'd already successfully grown a pumpkin in the newly plowed lower garden. 

Really?

So I looked out the window.

Sure enough.

 

I made pumpkin soup for supper that night.

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Also.

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We put several wagonloads of aged manure on the garden, as usual.

Zeke doesn't need a sandbox or a wood shavings box or a corn kernals box,

 

because he's got a giant pile of manure to keep him busy.