Sigyn’s Great Gardening Adventure, Part I: The Community Garden

Sigyn gets...ideas sometimes.   Inspiration can strike seemingly out of thin air.  I’m not sure what’s triggered this round of enthusiasm, though I have a sneaking hunch it might be the radishes she sliced the other day.

Whatever the impetus, Sigyn has now declared that she’s going to start a garden.  I’ve tried to explain to her that this town is cursed with a salty clay soil and that the local water is also horrifically salty.  The summers are brutal.  Not much will grow here, and that’s a fact.

We’re lying here on the lawn, in the shade, discussing just what her prospects are.

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My beloved, however, has a sunny optimism that nothing can daunt.  She is not deterred.  Perhaps the soil somewhere else in the city will be better?  And maybe someone has already made a good start and could use some help?  She’s set off, therefore, for a Community Garden she’s heard of, in hopes of snagging a plot of her own.

Well, she’s found it.  The people look friendly enough, I suppose.

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They’ve told my sweetie that she can help out wherever.

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I’m not sure that big rake is going to be useful in the raised bed of carrots.

Sigyn is squealing.  The garden has a chicken!   There’s a feeder/waterer and a coop and everything!

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Are there eggs in the coop?

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There is!  And it’s still warm!

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Oh, it’s beautiful here.  Sigyn’s admiring the trees and lawn and shrubbery.  There are a lot of flowers here too.  She’s definitely in her element!

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The beds are full—and they seem to be coming up on the lawn as well.  They clash a bit with the red thing, though.   Sigyn, is that a post box behind you?

Yes, yes it is.  Is there something inside?

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Uh, oh.  Looks like the chicken doesn’t always leave the its nascent offspring in the coop.  I wonder how long this has been here?

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Quite a while, I assume.  ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that eggs aren’t supposed to be gray.

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