With the state of the world being what it is, Fio heeds Voltaire's advice and tends her own garden with a vengeance. Yesterday was the allowed watering day for the odd-numbered side of the street so she and Husband spent their evening nourishing the planting beds. He wielded the hose in the west beds while she took care of the large, sun-baked north bed.
Ironically, the plants seem to be doing better currently than when they were being watered three times a week by the now-verboten in-ground system. Husband's mulching is part of the reason, Fio thinks, but it's also that the beds are now receiving daily life support, thanks to milk bottle storage and the bath water gizmo.
The world may still a mess, but Fiorella's garden is doing quite well, thank you.
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With the hot Texas sun beating down overhead
I live in the sun-baked and scorched north bed
Barely surviving, the water alone
Left me gasping for love, my roots dry as a bone
It’s your personal touch and with a bit of TLC
How intuitive Voltaire, to show you what’s best for me.
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