Yesterday, Licorice, the oldest feral cat resident, decided to bypass the tarp covered plastic bins I had set in the side garden I rarely use.
Instead, she gave birth to her kittens in the only remaining high grass - exactly where I had planned to cut it down today and plant sunflowers and cosmos.
Now she moved her new family of three a few feet away to under the thriving rosemary scrub and within a snarl and a scratch away from all the new containers filled with sage and basil, lemongrass, ginger and garlic.
Oh well, temporary hand watering will build up my arms.
Peace reigns supreme, and is that not what a garden is supposed to provide?
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