Yes, I'm immature. So sue me.
But my plants don't care what I call the black gold. Manure. Compost. Dung. Muck. Excrement.
The "I Wonder What These Are" squash plants that survived the deluge last month are doing ok, but looked like they could use a little pick-me-up. So I got out the shovel and a bucket and proceeded to amend the
Then the next day, I noticed that some of the smaller plants were basically dead:
|Yup. Killed 'em.|
I was going to add some to the sweet potato trenches, but wasn't sure if that was a good idea or not. I still need to hill them as the slips are really starting to take off so later today I'll be forking wasted goat hay into the wheelbarrow and wheel it down to the 'taters. I've already got major swampass going so what's another sopping wet handkerchief, right?
I heard rumors of a Summer Polar Vortex. Is it true? Really?! I could go for a flurry right about now. Maybe I'll spare my garden the cold and just blend me up a Pina Colada instead. Although I am three days late for National Pina Colada Day. You won't rat me out and call the F.P.A.B. P. (Fancy Pants Alcoholic Beverage Police) on me, will ya?