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all that remains

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There was a sad realization after Robin’s victorious asparagus post that none of the seeds I started inside survived their jump to the outside world. The tomato plants that I planted the day of the hail storm?  Smashed to smithereens. The lovely cardinal climbers that were all-stars inside? Thoroughly enjoyed by chipmunks. All those weeks of tending to their needs, talking them through their problems, and supplementing their light? All for naught.

But then, I remembered. As if led by the hand of fate, the morning of the day of the hail storm Pia’s teacher had asked if I had any seedlings that the class could have. So I gave her a tomato, a sunflower, a crimson clover and two mystery plants from the butterfly garden mix (pictured above… play-doh containers make excellent seed starting vessels if you poke holes in the bottom). Which means there is a small possibility that at least one of the dozens of seeds we started inside survived. Though I am a bit scared to ask. Is it possible that two classes of 4-year-olds could take better care of the seedlings than I did? Humbling.

Oh, and the hail storm? It wasn’t the legendary baseball size hail, but it was the biggest hail I have ever seen. And now Pia has learned the difference between hail the precipitation and Haile our cat. Hail, photo A. Haile (and brother Darwin) photo B.

Photo A (hail from our recent storm. Ruler courtesy of Hank’s birthday party.):

 Photo B (Haile and Darwin):

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4 responses »

  1. Wait, you have cats? I think I knew that, but I’ve never seen them before!

    Reply
    • We do, indeed, have cats. Seldom seen, but still they are able to strike fear into the heart of your son. Well, not Haile so much, but Darwin has gained mythical status in Tea’s mind. For this I apologize.

      Reply
  2. That is some seriously gnarly hail. Imagine those coming at you, from the seedling’s perspective. It’d be like basketball-sized hail shooting down on us, while our feet were glued in place. I am bowing my head in a moment of silence for your tomato plants. They must have been terrified. (Early tomato rapture?)

    Reply
  3. Pingback: How I know it’s time to make rhubarb pie « Domestic Wormhole

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