Shine On, Harvest Moon

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!

Unlike the two lazy/dead rosebushes, my Kroger oxalis has come back to life.  In the background, you can see the newest bird feeder.  My cunning plan was that the squirrels wouldn't try to gnaw pieces off it since they could just walk in and take the seeds.  The one flaw in my cunning plan: squirrels will apparently just sit inside the little house until they've eaten all the seeds.  So, cunning plan step two: wait for squirrels to become fat and slow enough for the cat to catch.

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.

Over in my hated side garden, some of my seeds are finally starting to bloom.  I celebrated with the traditional oak seedling genocide.

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.

These green wires are left over from the grape plant I got from K-Mart.  It failed to thrive, and my attempts to buy grapes have failed miserable.  So, tomatoes.  Which I assume can be fermented if one gets desperate enough.  I mean, you can ferment any fruit, right?

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.

After digging in the dirt and thinking about how much I hate the Sun, I decided to harvest some of the spring onions for vegetarian chili.  As much as I love sticking it to The Man, organic gardening is for chumps.  Not only am I denying the sweet, sadistic pleasure of dousing things in chemicals, but my scallions are small and feeble.  [phallic joke]

Now, I'm not saying I put a whole lot of effort into tilling my soil and sowing my seeds and tending my crops, because it's me.  I didn't even till any soil since I had my seed starter pellets and my bags of dirt.

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.