It was a solemn and quiet ceremony as Budweiser and I gave final rites to my 2022 garden. I kinda knew it was doomed when I plowed up a ton of rocks in the beginning. Record heat, no rain and deer did in the fated plot. No silver corn, fried okra or yellow squash fresh from the garden. Two years in a row my garden crashed and burned. Sweet wife reminds me Ingle’s has all we need with a lot less time, stress and effort. And then Zeke shows up with a fresh sack of tomatoes off his store-bought Big Boy plant. Also claims his potato patch is doing well. I guess the flood we had months ago soaked the ground enough to survive. Well, there is next year or maybe a winter garden. Budweiser thinks not!
Sincerely
Pete