Gardening in Gethsemane

 Now I understand how Christ could say "Why me" to his heavenly father in the garden of Gethsemane.   In the Garden of Almena, I feel more like saying "WTF" as we head into summer.  After a weekend of fitful drizzle, 30 MPH winds and temps hovering in the low 50s, it's hard to get excited about the prospects of harvesting what little is even close to ready.  The warm weather crops are on strike and the cool season veggies (yes, I wrote that, dear) think this weather is a cruel joke.  The only plants that continue to soldier on are the weeds.  The galinsoga is making its annual appearance.  The only good thing so far this season is the failure of the June deluge to make an appearance and turn my somewhat heavy soil into a sloppy mudpack which would slowly harden to the consistency of concrete in July.   Instead, the fitful nature of precipitation has made planting dependent on constant watering.  Of course, complaining about the difficulties of my chosen hobby/obsession is one of the highlights of each day.