If Mr. W was a vegetable, he would be a cool, cool cucumber. He is one of the most even-tempered people I've ever met, no matter what's going on around him. I could be climbing the walls or spitting fireballs and he'd be totally zen, rubbing my shoulders, and assuring me everything would be fine. As part of this mellow mode of operating, it's somewhat rare that he spouts off expletives.
That is, unless he accidentally torches his marshmallow when making s'mores (this warranted an F-bomb in our kitchen not too long ago) or our backyard becomes a deer salad bar.
A few weeks ago, he came through the sliding glass door cursing a blue streak about how the mother effing deer had gotten into the efferino backyard and eaten all the blasted effing tomatoes. Every last one. I seriously do not think I've ever seen him get so worked up about something.
It was delightful.
He was not pleased that I found so much humor in the situation.
We think we've sealed the deer entryway, but we're still a little nervous that they may come back and nosh on our new fall garden occupants.
This is the first time we've planted chard and even if it doesn't taste great, it sure looks pretty.
Our carrots are just teeny tiny babies right now, but we're hoping the deeper box Mr. W built will enable them to grow longer than they did last time we planted them.
Our one and only lonely pumpkin finally turned orange. We're not sure what to do with him yet. Carve him. Roast him. Maybe make risotto with him. We'll see...
Thankfully, a few tomatoes grew back after the Deer Disaster of 2012. I'm hoping we get another rogue that produces all winter for us again!
These California poppies earned their name after popping up out of nowhere. So nice to have such vibrant color dotting the backyard.
We haven't checked the avocados in awhile, but they've got to be close to their full size. It's hard to believe they used to be smaller than my thumbnail!
We've eaten two of the butternut squash and are very grateful to have 3 more waiting for our next meal of gnocchi or past and brown-butter sage sauce.
Although we enjoyed many figs over the summer months, there were a whole lot that ended up like this...
...thanks to this kind of action going on out back. Strangely, the sneaky squirrels do not make Mr. W cuss.
As much as we love our garden (despite the diners who occasionally pop up in it), we're really excited to build a mini farm at our new house. Maybe full-blown farm life will turn Mr. W into an uncensored potty mouth. I'll keep you informed, whatever happens...