Mi Jardín Pobre

My garden. My poor, poor garden. On the brink of an un-harvested end.

Things had already been going poorly for the peas and peppers, however, to me, these plants mattered not. The strong, proud tomatoes brought me the most delight and the highest expectations. But, their strength now bringest their doom.

They grew so tall. Towering over the wire frames as if to say, "Pfft...you think that'll hold me?" in a menacing tone. Now, with the growth of the tomatoes, so many tomatoes, the stalks can no longer support their weight. They gloomily hang down to the ground. Some damaged by the wire frames trying desperately to hold them up.

This saddens me. If these plants die, all my hard work will have been for naught. My only harvest may be a minuscule pepper that somehow grows despite the sobbing tomatoes o'er head.

*tear*