I watered today. This is rather remarkable, since I pretty much never water except to water in a new plant. I like to think it’s my tough-love style of gardening, but it’s actually simple laziness.

However, I had looked at the weather forecast for the week (all dry), and thought about it as I was planting my spindly, fragile seedlings over the weekend, and decided I would water today, and again Thursday unless Friday’s forecast rain moved up instead of back. Next weekend we’ll be in Chicago for our anniversary/last-trip-before-the-baby-comes trip and it’s supposed to be nice except for Friday, and even I can’t kid myself that eight days without water is going to do anything to small seedlings but kill them.

Watering, it turns out, isn’t that bad, as long as you wear proper footwear. I didn’t–I had socks and sandals on–but I was aware they were going to get wet and muddy and didn’t worry about it. I noticed that the French Fingerlings put on a spurt of growth in the last few days. I noticed that the tomatoes are still purple underneath. I noticed that the lettuce and bok choi seedlings are doing great. I noticed that the cumin seems to have disappeared already. Did I plant seeds along with the seedlings? I can’t remember. I think I’d better plant some.

I also planted some Mitla Black tepary beans around the tomato stakes, same as I did last year. And I nearly stepped on an adolescent robin; while I was in the herb garden the nest seemed to overflow with birds and suddenly one dropped right near me; I stepped instinctively away but it moved in the same direction and almost got crushed. But didn’t. A mature robin on the fencestarted chirping, rather angrily, it seemed, and I said, “I didn’t do it!” and moved away, and the younger bird hopped around and seemed fine. I almost wanted to dig up some worms for it.

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