My palette, my bane, my inspiration, so tempted to make a hacky rhyme right here but I must refrain. Oh goodness, I can’t help with these silly jokes.

Longer days bring major decisions, which plants do I want to inspire and frustrate me for the next six optimistic months. Do I go the easy route and just throw a handful of zinnia blooms in there. Or do nurse a bunch of fancy pants seedlings into toddlerhood just to have the deer eat them? Such a rewarding hobby, such a beautiful sorrow. It’s important and has meaning and is silly and fleeting.