My weekend hasn't been all about drinking rum and watching Nicktoons. Today I decided to finally start planting some of those prison flowers that've been sitting by the driveway, waiting for me to take a break from straining my liver and watching whatever Netflix Instant pukes up.
As my reward for my honest toil, I discovered that one of the rosebushes has actually started blooming. The other two are...possibly dead. According to eHow, rosebushes are like Juliet--they may only be tricking me into thinking they're dead, so I probably shouldn't kill myself over it. Unless I want to speed up the rosebush's recovery by having it revive as soon as I've already swallowed all of the deadly poison. Oh, cruel staging choices!
I didn't mind feeding the squirrels until I realized they will destroy your bird feeders, and they are greedy little binge eaters.
Since the old woman wanted to be able to look out the kitchen window and see flowers, I did a lot of planting near the rosebushes. Until I posted this picture, I didn't realize quite how ugly this spot was.
The prison tomatoes are doing well, even though I forgot about them for a few days and left them to their own devices in the hot, cruel sun. There's currently a green tomato that I'll probably ripen in the house once it gets big enough. The little woodland creatures cannot be trusted, and Garfield was the Teddy Roosevelt of Simonsen cats.
As a Virginian, I'm going to need cocktails to sip as I look at the veranda from inside my air-conditioned house. Being outside today was like that level in Super Mario Bros. 3 where the angry sun comes down and tries to kill you. God, I hate you, Angry Sun.
But it was still slightly more effort than going to the grocery store and buying a bunch of scallions for 89 cents. In the picture you can see what I managed to get from two of my Victory Garden scallions. Thank God we already beat Hitler, because this pittance of seasonings sure isn't going to do it.