Every day we like to go out to the vegetable garden and weed for about an hour.
Oy. Boudreaux likes to take naps on the freshly weeded beds. He has absolutely no sense of personal space. Even less for crushing plants.
The weather's been so warm, the blackberries, peppers, cucumbers and beans have already begun to produce. We've eaten at least ten tomatoes. I plucked two more off today.
The eggplants have just begun to flower. We caged them to keep them from softening Boudreaux's naps. But the herbs are Simone's favorite place to play. Rosemary is scratchy but the thyme is soft as a cloud, according to her.
I never thought I'd like to hear myself say phrases like, "Boudreaux! You can't sleep on an eggplant!" Or, "Dogs don't eat marigolds!" Much less the timeless, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop jumping over me in the garden?"
Seriously. Boudreaux has mad skills. He's like an exotic black deer set loose in the backyard. We have a brick wall between the driveway and the pool deck. It's about four and a half feet on the car side and three feet tall on the pool side. I'm walking back in when I notice his running feet coming in my direction. I look up to see him leap the wall, perch on top of the one brick wide decoration and gently land on the decking. So jumping , Simone, Me or Zoe is hardly a test of his agility.