Fertile Ground

 

I was super grumpy this afternoon and evening-- like SUPER grumpy, like my-children-wished-I-would-stamp-myself-into-a-hole-in-the-ground-with-Rumpelstiltskin grumpy.

That's a lot of "likes," but it's true.

Due to something unexpected, I spent nearly 2 hours of prime midday sunlight doing something other than planting garlic or finishing a chunk of the outdoor chores I hoped to pack into this last beautiful day. (God keeps trying to teach me that crossing off to-dos is worth less than kindness. I'm still learning.)

Anyway, although this sounds like I'm using my blog as a confessional, I'm not. Mostly that preamble serves to explain why I didn't see the humor of planting my cell phone until just now. 

Millie (the girl who insisted I write a real-time post letting my reader-- hi Debbie!-- know this event) just read this over my shoulder, chuckled, and said, "You are VERY wordy. It doesn't need all that!"

I'm tired. She's right.

I sowed my cell phone while planting garlic with a headlamp. When I discovered it was missing, Millie called it, and we followed the muffled sound to a row of garlic. There it was, planted neatly into the row, waiting for spring cell shoots and a summertime harvest of a clump of FIVE cell phones.

She's right. Too wordy. I'm tired.

THE END.