Grow little tomato plant, grow.
I came home from vacation to find:
- No one at home makes my bed while I’m eating breakfast.
- There are no buffets available in our building and the neighbours are less friendly that you’d think at 7am. (“For the last time Laura, this is my living room, not the Lido deck.”)
- The chill in the air is no longer an overzealous AC unit. Booo, winter.
Bunker, dog park you need a special pass to access or just a vacant lot?
But, a few things made everything a bit easier.
- Friends who were happy to see me. (I missed you too…although I may miss the Lido deck more.)
- Our furry houseguest. (Welcome, Jill.)
- Finding a little bit of summer, clinging to chainlink in defiance of the season and lifted legs.
Writing Exercise:
My little tomato plant friend is growing at the very edge of a vacant lot that someone has carefully protected with a chain link fence (perfect for training wild tomatoes apparently). I walked by the empty lot, (furry friend in tow, imagining how awesome the site would be as a dog park and wondering how to get the dog over the fence). I stopped to contemplate nature/inspect the fence for weak points when I realized that there wasn’t just one fence. The perimeter fence encompassed another fence which surrounded a corrugated blue hut and a power pole.
Why a fence inside a fence? Sure, the easy answer is the smaller fence came first, and the outside fence was just to keep out wayward dog walkers. Or…the double fence system is the first line of defence for a secret underground bunker hiding in plain sight. We may never know. (I had to get to work and Jill is surprisingly heavy and unwilling to be thrown over a fence, even to get to the potentially best dog park in the city.)
Happy writing.
