…or more accurately, empty garden box of woes.
the survivors, weathering some high winds on top of our rain barrel
Saturday morning I worked at a triathlon in Versailles (pronounced “vuhr-SAY-uhls”…and just FYI, for those of you who are local, if you are trying to use the voice command on your Andriod phone to get directions, Google Maps doesn’t recognize “vuhr-SAY-uhls”. You have to pronounce it “vehr-SIGH”, like the rest of the world does).
The weather was completely awful (kudos to those who made it through the bike and the run, wet, in 40 degree wind and rain), and I was doing my best to sell arm warmers to those who came unprepared, when I received this text from Paul:
greenhouse flipped over again and spike ate most of the plants. taking the stupid thing back to my parents house and building a permanent one over break
Sure enough, I got home, the greenhouse was in pieces, all of our plants (except for the ones above, which are my flowers) were gone, and Spike looked stuffed.
I guess Paul put the greenhouse out when the sun started to peek through the clouds, went inside to take care of some business for like 3 minutes, while he was inside a gust of wind came…and you know the rest of the story. Spike had a field day.
At what point do you just admit it…