The little tree was so scrawny, bare root, bare branches. Looked like something out of a "Charlie Brown Christmas." But I had faith and mulch and so it made it through the first year, then the second spring and now, a few tiny apples.
And now that The Mighty Finn McCool's ashes are planted around the little apple tree, I expect it will begin to grow tall, taller, tallest, like the Finn himself.
In addition, my Garden Folly continues. In the face of this drought, I concocted a scheme to bury empty plastic 1-gallone pots in the ground, fill them with mulch, and dump sink-water therein withhopes of getting the water down deeper into the soil, thus encouraging any roots to do likewise. With that idiocy in mind, I fixed up last year's green-bean poles and planted green beans and then stuck in a few acorn squash seeds in the other raised bed.
Then poured water and waited. And waited. While Mother Nature decided to toy with me, sending down unseasonable cold weather, followed by unseasonable heat and no rain then some rain. Until, finally . . .
And . . .
Sunday follies, Sunday Miracles.