Pots o' dirt.

I have four pots o' dirt on the porch now, each with seeds, trying again to shame Spring into getting things going. I think it's starting to work; yesterday the high was 71!

Two of the pots stand astride the stairs leading to the porch. These contain bell pepper seeds, which turn into big leafy plants all summer. They look great, green and lively and dramatic. And then you get delicious red bell peppers. If they grow at all, that is. If not, those guys who bag the dirt for Scotts Miracle-Gro will hear from me. I haven't forgotten your persecution of an employee for engaging in a legal activity in his own home, Scotts. Fail me and you'll be hearing from my lawyers.

On notice

The third large pot o' dirt contains seeds for grape tomatoes. We got a lot of good tomatoes out of that pot last year, but I made two mistakes -- I started late and I didn't get a tomato cage to tie up the plants. Tying them to the porch railings was a disaster. It lolled all over the place like a drunken green octopus. I got a cage yesterday that can stand in the pot and hold the plants up. Of course, the wind may blow it all over, pot and all, and I won't be able to sue Scotts for that.

The last pot o' dirt is the saddest. When our junior dog Nipper contracted lymphoma this winter, we made an appointment to take him to a vet in the next county that specializes in dog cancer treatment. Two days later we cancelled the appointment -- Nipper was too far gone. They were kind enough to send a condolence card with a little packet of forget-me-not seeds. I planted the flower seeds yesterday in honor of our little one, gone too soon. A good dog is never forgotten. 

Nipper, 2016–2021; forever young.