Violets

Steve's log: Earth Date - 18Jul26 I think I previously mentioned how I was the field slave for my family when I was young. In addition to maintaining the family garden, I worked on my grandfather's farm ... though I have to admit he paid _really_ well - much better than what my peers got serving up fries. It left me with this attitude that gardening is not a hobby. It's work. So, I don't garden. I mow the lawn ... when I have to. My wife gardens. She applies a terrifying tenacity to it. The flowers are gonna live ... or else. Our yard has the most flowers, the most colorful. The most trees, the tallest and fullest. Our pets live to record ages. I wouldn't have it any other way ... ... but I do feel guilty that I don't help her much. That doesn't stop me from spending a whole day in the basement writing. But I feel guilty about it. So, to make up for it, we have a fine Italian meal. And, due to that tenacity I mentioned (I call her my Pitbull - also my Princess. You have to pick your moments.), I don't think I'm unreasonable in saying that if I made more of an effort to help her, we would spend more time angry at each other and less time enjoying Torta Caprese (or, in her case, Tres Leches).