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I've lived a lot of places.

I've experienced the blizzards of Wisconsin and Minnesota, the tornados of Arkansas and Missouri, the bland chill of Illinois and then Kentucky--the wildcard.

Something about the Ohio River Valley and certain weather patterns that creates this questionable meteorological pocket known as Louisville. So let it be that the evening after my day of manure spreading and broccoli planting, a freak storm swings on through.


I have no clue what I'm doing here.

Lang has so sweetly put a lot of work into our backyard this past month and I pray to the good Lord that we can harvest at least one tasty vegetable. Thankfully I have a green thumbed adventurist friend who gently steers me away from commercial soil towards compost and speaks of the grace that exists in gardening. 


If none of my plants do well, it'll be okay. I still have a pup who loves sticks and being cute.

Both come in handy after a storm.


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