I’m a farmer now.

Not really. But I call myself that. And I am definitely not scared of being dirty or fighting possums or creating ramps to roll trashed barbecue grills into the back of the golf cart thingies to drive to the street for trash pickup. I also have many other very marketable skills. I’m working on writing them down and marketing them. Because they are marketable. And there’s a market for these things. Maybe even a farmer’s market.

Or something.

I have much to say, but every time I try to, I end up looking at a paragraph that’s pretty much nonsense. (See above.) I am settling in to a new home and a new kind of life. I’ve decided not to trade in any of the people, though. I like them. Everything else is up for grabs. I’ll even sell you the van for the right price. It handles tight parking spots quite well.

There is a future post in the works about the garden that is growing out back. I have to give a huge shout out to my parents in law, who will remain unnamed for privacy’s sake. Since this blog got 2 views this morning, I have to think about privacy. We’ll just call them Barrell and Plank Flap. Let it go, people. Do not try to figure out who they are. Get your own gardening in-laws. Stop stalking.

Pheww.

See why I haven’t posted? It’s ugly.

Until I can string some thoughts together into something that would have made above a C in 9th grade, I will leave you with a couple of harvest photos. The garden is amazing. And fun. And tasty. It’s turning out some pretty large stuff. God grows really neat stuff. I’m glad my kids are figuring out that grocery stores are not where things grow.

Even these guys like it…

We had to take her to the chiropractor after she hoisted this thing up against her shoulder. Yes, that IS a zucchini.

Eat your heart out, Publix.