So Much Depends Upon A Sense of Humor

Today, finding myself in the garden and oddly alone, I decided to bring in the harvest.  Everything froze last night, everything except the mystery flowers.

So much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

filled with greenish
pumpkins

beside the white
irrigation pipe.

Its pretty much official:  this year, I am the bomb at growing anything which is NOT food.

Pumpkins, gourds, morning glories, marigolds as tall as your daddy, zinnias (you say it zeen-yuh-s, yo) OH, basil, I can grow basil, and I did get some beets, turnips and radishes, but one can only eat so many radishes and turnips.  I think we grew about four carrots.  Oh and buckets of ornamental corn, which consequently could be sold for far more than sweet corn.  Decor is pricier than food?  Okay.

No ladle gourds this year . . . so that's good.  What the heck do you do with ladle gourds, aside from the obvious, make awkward ladles?  Looks like we'll be doing some pumpkin carving crafts tomorrow, followed by birdhouse making crafts and maybe some seed saving for future gifts.  As for putting up stuff for winter . . . well, I have lots and lots of dried flowers . . . and a freezer full of basil!  We'll survive on basil . . . oh yea, and there's those chickens who only laid seven eggs today.  Seven eggs from 50 chickens smells like chicken soup, with extra basil.