Farmer Merry


Merry Farmer

I swore at the beginning of this spring, when the weather started getting warmer and I could venture out onto my balcony, that I would not torture any plants this summer by attempting to grow them.  That’s what I said at least.

I do not have a green thumb.  I didn’t get those genes.  Sure, they run in the family.  I grew up at my grandparents’ house and my Grandad has a magnificent garden.  My aunt maintains that garden now and it’s a sight to see.  But when I was growing up in that house gardening was my punishment.  When I did something bad (which, granted, wasn’t all that often) I was told to go outside and weed the garden.  I hated weeding then and I still do now.

My brother, on the other hand, did inherit the gardening genes.  He too has a balcony attached to his apartment and…

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