The gardener

Cheapskate gardener that I am, this year I am again attempting to contain the Johnny Jump-ups that are - literally - growing like weeds in my rock garden, by transplanting them into my wheelbarrow-shaped flower pot.

What's new this year, is my little shadow who eagerly tries to help.

I can just imagine the thought process. "Let's see, first Mommy picks some purple flowers..."

"Then she carries them over here,"

"and she sticks them in the dirt."

"There. That wasn't so hard."

Roots? Who needs roots? I think I better plan on picking out the shriveled up petals before my little gardener has a chance to see how her flowers aren't growing. She may develop a green thumb someday, but right now, it's too covered in spaghetti sauce and other dirt that accumulated since supper to tell.