wacky misadventures

I was at Sloat twice this weekend. That's the garden center. I've got it in my head to have a garden but know nothing about anything relevant to having a garden. I've got no clue about the composition of my soil, how much sun the various areas of my garden actually get and most importantly have not the faintest idea what actually grows in my micro-climate. So I go out to Sloat and wander around, trying to happen upon something that will be easy to grow and difficult to kill. I've got it in my head to grow blueberries, though I only really like them in cereal. The Sloat man told me they needed five hours of sun and acidic soil. I looked him straight in the eye and asked how can I even tell if my soil is acidic? His answer was complex but the solution simple, buy a bag of acidic soil and mix it with my soil. I'm not the proud owner of two blueberry bushes that better fucking give me some berries. If all goes well, there will also be strawberries, tomatoes, raspberries, lavender and spearmint. The spearmint is growing pretty good. I like to chew on the leaves before making my rounds in social ramble. The girls find spear-minty breath to be preferable to PBR breath. I also planted some flowers and one vine type plant that might cover a fence and attract humming birds. Those little wigglers are always fun to have around. The big mean cat that is always stalking through isn't fast or smart enough to chase down a humming bird. There is also a mole that is digging around. I might need to flood his subterranean lair and trap him in a cage. Not sure if he and his friends are the types to eat blueberries but it isn't worth the risk. No way I spend all this time trying to coax precious berries out of a bush next to a fence and then lose my bounty to an animal that lives beneath the ground. I'm reminded of a story about a girl I know. Well, not really about her, about her mom. Apparently this girl came home from school one day to find her mom cackling like a maniac and repeatedly bashing a mole with a shovel. Blunt force trauma delivered to a one pound rodent. I don't want to say I approve, but really, who likes their garden fucked with?

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