And just like that -- well, actually because my friend both plowed AND disked, then worked all that beautiful manure (see yesterday) into the clay we here laughingly refer to as soil -- the garden is as smooth and rich and inviting as I have ever seen it.

Am off now to the local feed store to buy my annual two bales of straw for mulch, and then to the nursery for bedding plants, and then to stare at the road and will the UPS truck to please please hurry with the seed order.

Meanwhile, Maisie does not smell like a daisy, unless said flower has been consumed and masticated and swallowed and digested and expelled in a moist blob by a barnyard animal. In that case, Maisie is daisy fresh.