The best thing about the garden is not knowing who will arrive. Sun, rain, podcasts, bees. Bees! Where do you even come from? Suddenly Dov cries out: we have our first cukes, sprawling below the tomatoes.
These johns seem awfully familiar.
And I can’t remember their names. I can’t even remember the last time I had a serious back & forth with Bucky Mille…
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