The ever-dapper fireside poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, wrote:
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
Or plants a tree, is more than all.
We are hedging our bets against fortune's indigestion, and learning how to grow plants.
Our little greenhouse is assembled (The Boy looked at the "instructions" -- a sketch clearly drawn by a palsied, drunk, handless individual -- and put that puppy together in a snap). This weekend we are going to get some soil and seeds and begin.
