Garden Mishaps

I can't seem to get peas. I just can't seem to get them right. Either I have a wimpy support and the peas can't climb, or the peas are trapped in a non-sunny spot, or something unknown prevents them from doing well. My pea vines are already dying, and there aren't many pods to pick. You see the peas here behind my excuse for a scarecrow: old CDs.

Chuck came in and asked, "Did you kill your chives? If you killed the chives, I'm revoking your gardener's license!" Well, no, I didn't kill the chives. I transplanted them last year so they're closer to the house. He had observed these: the shallots.

Shallots were (are?) an experiment this year. I wasn't sure if I had the time or the right kind of soil to grow them well. I'm still not sure. This lying down on the job act: does that mean they're ready to harvest, or does that mean they're dying? Anyone have a clue?

To conclude this valuable discussion, I'll just leave you with some philosophy. Garden growth is dependent on so many variables. Rain, sun, quality seeds, critters... oh, yes, critters. I walked out to the garden to pick the few peas that are growing, and I found this little furball sitting in my lettuce. In my LETTUCE!!

My reaction (you won't be surprised) was to stop in my tracks, look that bunny right in the eye, and call out, "How did YOU get in there?" It didn't answer me.

I call him Peter, even though I'm not Farmer McGregor. He's better not invite Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail to a lettuce party. I'll be waiting.