Poor Neel. Do we say that a lot around here or is it just me? Don't feel too bad for him. He loves playing in the dirt.

For some reason I've been working at our desktop in the family room lately rather than my laptop, and said desktop looks right out onto the garden. This means that Neel often gets texts from me during the day that say things like:

I think we should paint the fence charcoal gray.

After we'd painted it forrest green. (As as aside, designers, help me out here, why is green so hard to get right? We have the toughest time with that color.)

Last week, after watching the sun throughout the day, I told him that I thought we needed to move the raised beds for the vegetables from the side of the yard to the back of the yard where they'd get more sun.

Neither spot is ideal, really, but the back part of the yard bakes in the late afternoon, and the side yard is mostly dappled during the day. Fortunately he listens to me. He got started before I could snap any "before" pictures. These are the beds without their beds.

And these are the beds. Back safe, home again. (You'll note that the fence is not yet charcoal gray. I just thought of that this week.)

He moved the beans too. He said that when he had all the plants laid out, he almost forgot which ones were the cucumbers, but one whiff of the roots, which smell distinctly like cucumbers (go figure!) reminded him. It's coming along.

This morning I said, "Rather than going here; I think the grill should go here." He mulled it over awhile and agreed.

Me, being sarcastic: "Aren't you glad I'm staring at the yard all day so I can think of all sorts of changes for you to make?"
Neel, being sweet: "No! I like that you do that. It helps me out a lot." Long Pause. "Really."