It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Mama told me there’d be days like this.
Anything you can do I can do better.
My mom’s garden is better than mine. There. I said it. And sure, it hurts a little to admit it, but hey my mother didn’t raise me to be a quitter, and so I will keep trying. I will keep trying though skies refuse to rain and squash plants refuse to get frisky.
I know that there will be days. Days that squirrels eat all the ripe berries and days when the lone female pumpkin blossom gives up hope for love and droops sadly on her vine.
But this I vow: my children will eat garden fresh tomatoes. They will eat snap peas from the vine and they will stain their lips red with sun-warmed raspberries.
Setbacks? Ha! I laugh in the face of setbacks. They will only make me stronger. Or at least they will provide ample fodder for me to retreat into the house, jot them down and tell the tale.