Because I can't have a little zen gardening time like normal people...
I decided to take some time off from revisions to play with my migrant garden, because the individual pots were looking pretty crappy, and some of the plants have given up the ghost and died hard with a vengeance. So I got some larger plastic flower boxes to see how they would fare with more room to root. I'm hoping that I'm right and there will be no further frosts this year, so fingers crossed. With the weather we've been having, who knows what will happen next.
Now, you're probably asking why my blog title hints at violence or retribution of the legume kind. Well, I was out on the patio, merrily transplanting plants when well... my boob started itching. I was sweaty, it happens, okay? So I reached down for a little sport bra tug and a scratch, and I suddenly realized, "Hey, that doesn't itch, that HURTS." So I pulled the neck of my shirt out and this itty bitty mini-bumble bee looking thing floats lazily out of my cleavage. And my boob begins to swell.
I hate nature.
I have no idea how long I had animal life living in my cleavage.
And now I'm sleepy from the Benadryl I popped, and I have a baking soda paste oozing between my tatas.
So much for the zen.... Oh well. Here are a couple pics of the migrant garden's latest migration.