We had a huge, freak thunderstorm at three this morning, complete with driving rain and pebbly hail. Afterward I lay awake in a panic, thinking about how I should have brought the plants in and they were probably dead and now I was out 70 bucks and Michael was going to be mad and I’d never have a garden again and would I cry, do you think, when I saw the plants’ pathetic little bodies laid out across the battered potting soil? Basically, I was expecting to see this when I went outside this morning:
Visual hyperbole: It’s a good thing.
Instead, to my eternal relief, I saw this:
We! Shall! Overcome!
Apparently, my little garden is bionic. Who knew? (The grass and the wildflowers are probably toast, though. Ah, sweet lawn, we hardly knew ye.)