The Headless Scarecrow Lives

May
24


I don’t know what’s more embarrassing about this photo–the state of this scarecrow or the state of my garden.


Don’t miss my column in today’s Charleston Daily Mail about my scarecrow! Also see: “A Passion for Tomatoes”–today’s post at Farm Bell Recipes.

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Posted by Suzanne McMinn on May 24, 2010  

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Comments

7 Responses | RSS feed for comments on this post

  1. 5-24
    1:52
    am

    no garden this year?

  2. 5-24
    6:32
    am

    Here, some things never got planted, like the radishes and cool weather plants, because we have had so much rain this spring. Such gully washers! Of course it gave the grass and weeds a big jump start and away they grew. I suspect you have had the same problem. I remember your river and streams overflowing. If you had planted, it probably would have washed away, and have to be planted again. I also take note of your weather there when I watch the weather TV channel for our own predictions.

  3. 5-24
    8:49
    am

    :snoopy: looks like time to have fun crafting a new Mr. Scarecrow and planting a beautiful garden with fresh maters,pataters,peppers,corn,cucumbers,beans oh so many veggies!!!

  4. 5-24
    9:01
    am

    I just finished pitchforking over my garden to prepare it for planting. For once (how can this be?) I’m ahead of someone with doing chores :-)

  5. 5-24
    3:34
    pm

    Too rainy and cold in my piece of Oregon to even try and plant.

  6. 5-24
    4:40
    pm

    Don’t feel bad Suzanne…my garden and scarecrow are no better.

  7. 5-24
    5:32
    pm

    Don’t be embarrassed. The weather was so peculiar this year, I was afraid to plant too early for fear of frost. You are safe now. Although we skipped from winter to summer. I weeded and planted this past weekend in the 90+ degree heat of middle Tennessee. My eyes were stinging from the sweat, but what else to do? Between the unpredictable cold, floods, and now heat it’s either sweat a little or go without. I’d rather sweat.

    Susan

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....






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