Two zucchinis, a tricolour and a climbing tromboncino, looked like they were ready to stretch their roots indefinitely. And so out they went, dwarfed by the giant feral parsley.
I'm happiest when I'm growing something, according to my husband B. He's right, and this is my blog of the growing projects in my life: our sons (aged 2 and 4 years), and our suburban garden.
1 comment:
Godspeed, sweet zucchinis. Oh you nutritious, undetectable in pasta friend to mothers everywhere.
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