Doesn’t the dirt go IN the pot?

That’s what he said while I was sitting in the middle of this:

For a split second I was mildly annoyed. Probably more because my super cool $25 craigslist wood table and bench just tried to maul me with a 3 inch splinter through my yoga pants (doesn’t everyone do their potting wearing yoga pants?) Then I looked left, at this man’s lawn. Just a wee little reminder he has every right to entertain himself with little jokes at the expense of mere mortals trying to grow things, unlike a gardening and lawn god like himself. Behold, his lawn:

Let me be clear, that grass is his, I had nothing to do with it, ever.  Until recently.  Like, recently a week ago. When I reveled in the fruits of three years of his labor and I laid down in it.  It was like heaven. Grass from heaven.  It was (is) so thick and soft it was springy.  I thought of making grass angels.  Grass is not as smooth as snow, I noticed. So I just stayed put in a spread eagle.  I did that last week.  And yesterday.  And today, when I got home form the office.  He has recommended that I lay on the front grass, too. (Just one of the gajillion reasons I love him – he does not bat an eye at his wife coming home at 7 PM, waving hello and laying down spread eagle on the heavenly backyard grass while not interrupting an awesome pep talk from her mom, in fact he suggests other places to lay flat on my back all over our yard.)

Aww, look at the babies (plants) all cleaned up for their first photo, below.  It's the overflow from the garden we planted last weekend.  Green salad bowl lettuce, spearmint, sage, and some broccoli 

Lettuce area looking good after being here for a week.  This was two hours before they were hailed on (!) but they looked fine this morning and tonight.  Hubby loves Romaine, as you can see.  And I couldnt resist that romaine with the red spots, toward the font ... called freckled Romaine.  Broccoli to the right. 

 Thanks for reading, Mom!