Yesterday I pulled the zinnias out of the biggest bed—the one that took the yard slope the hardest—the one we call El Jefe.
El Jefe is such a wonder of construction girth and majesty that if I hadn’t seen The Big Guns construct it with my own two eyes I might have wondered if the cartel made it the same day they made the super tunnel.
They’re not officially dead yet, and it broke my heart to pull them, but I know it’s just a matter of days. So I cut one last large bouquet, and then yanked them.
The bitties and I seeded El Jefe with winter rye.
This place is looking a little seedy.
You probably could have figured that we did it together based solely on the distribution rate. I think they may have been pretending to be Cinderella feeding chickens.
{Do birds eat winter rye seed? Just googled and BOOM. It says it’s “not attractive” to them..}
{Also, isn’t that unkind? Don’t you think it could have said birds “are more compatible with a different personality,” or “prefer a different flavor profile.” SHEESH.}
The other three beds {which still need snappy names, btdubs} are all doing great with their cool weather crops, so no winter rye for them for now. And I’m not sure what I’m going to do with them once they’re finished…maybe winter rye…maybe something else…I’m all unpredictable and hard to pin down like that.
And lastly, back to the zinnias…check out this little gal’s volunteer spirit. She’s practically Rosie the Riveter.
I didn’t have the heart to pull her. Enjoy your natural life cycle, little lady!
