Every time I walk by this cabbage patch, I envy the soil. One time, under the cover of darkness, I knelt down and fingered the soil. The guy who tends this patch told me he was lucky to inherit good soil. I don't care about luck. I care about robust cabbages. Look at those babies! That shit's cranking out.
I'm also fond of these poppies. Is that the Virgin among them? In any case, one can always tour the neighborhood and garden vicariously. You know, keep tabs on the Joneses. Jonses? How do you even spell that? Holy Mother of Guadalupe, I'm really scratching around hard for topics.
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