Holy Crap! Holy Worms! Holy Brussels Sprouts! Happy Birthday Phil!

These little guys are going with my daughter, Lillian, to her Minneapolis urban garden plot.

This is an "homage" to my friend, Amy who made the comment years ago when she saw my storage of wicker: "It looks like a bus stop."

Love it.

Amy is about to launch a brand new chapter in her life! She is running for County Supervisor in in the beautiful state of Wisconsin. For those of you who actually know me, you know that Amy and Bob are my vintage shopping buddies.

And here is his friend, the red worm. Obviously, they are unaware that the iPad lines are forming and are content to leave their messages as slime behind them. I wonder, are there any left in the Apple store? Do I need one? Do I WANT one? Is Steve Jobs a GOD??? YES!!!!!

I NEVER, EVER thought that I would be photographing worms. Or, that I would even CARE if I SAW a worm in my garden. But after Rob's morning class at Sustain Jefferson, I have a new appreciation of worms. And, the heartbreak of tilling. I am officially a no-till farm. Oh, and hello to my little wriggly friend above.

Last Sunday, I went to a fabulous workshop offered by a group called Sustain Jefferson. So much to learn! Such great people to teach me and how can you beat spending a day under a hoop house of plastic on a sunny Sunday afternoon learning all about soil and extending your growing season? One thing I learned was how to test your soil. I have been avoiding this because I was afraid of what I'd find.....brick? Let's face it, I'm returning my lawn to the farm it used to be prior to 1941! Today, I bit the bullet and grabbed a shovel full and put it into this Ma Baensch herring glass jar (sorry Bob) with water and am waiting for the magic to happen. Or at least I'm hoping there is some magic going on out there. The garden that I took it from has been in use for just 2 years.

I am just amazed.

And here is my little survivor, the brussels sprout plant that wintered over and seems to be doing just fine.

Today my brother, Chuck, dropped off some nicely aged horse manure from a place near his house. He has a small pick-up truck. It's the simple things.

(After an evening of feeling really rotten and sleeping most of today, this visit was most appreciated. I was not in the mood to load it myself.)