Ghosts in the Garden

I spent the latter part of the afternoon protecting my peppers, butterbeans and cucumbers from the much hyped overnight freezing temperatures. I muttered to the cat, "It's not supposed to be like this in Georgia in October." The cat whined, "Feed me."

Her uncertain, unstable beginnings stunted her empathy. She seems not to remember that I snatched her from the teeth of death, just like I'm trying to do with my jalapeno plants. I doubt they appreciate my heroic efforts either.

My husband just walked in and said, "It's not supposed to get as cold tonight as the weathermen were saying." He and the forecasters care about my heroic deeds about as much as the peppers and the cat.