Peppy

This year's single surviving bell pepper plant produced five small peppers. Every year, I take a picture of Danny holding the "Peppy" he's grown from a seed. Here's this year's:
Ah yes, those were some excellent peppers. He was a little sad to see them stir-fried, but he ate them up just the same. While the pepper plants failed miserably, the tomatoes were really, really productive. Too bad we didn't care for them. I have a counter full of tomatoes I need to deal with-I can't even bring myself to make sauce. I am so terribly sick of tomatoes.




This is an exhausted mama, who is swearing off gardening...sort of...maybe...but not nearly as much as this year, but I'm putting in a few last onions and peas anyway...but really, I'm essentially through gardening...probably. Completely unrelated, does anyone know how the hell my mother's chin got on my face? Really, I never had a pointy chin. Strange.

I hope Danny doesn't inherit the family chin, but I guess he can always grow a beard.