I wonder if the written word can do justice to the following? In light of the recent tornado outbreaks in the Midwest this past week, this event is relatively benign. Last Friday a mini-wind situation must have taken place in my big vegetable garden. I have a large heavy-plastic igloo-type shelter that I use in the fall to house pigs. It is quite large — perhaps six feet long, four feet tall and three feet wide. It will comfortably sleep three 200-pound pigs. I use it to store hoses, rolls of weed mat and shovels over the winter.

My perennial beds are in serious disrepair. I did manage to get them cut back of last season’s debris. However they haven’t seen a cultivator or any fertilizer in a few years, forget about any weeding taking place. The mugwort has run rampant. For those of you unfamiliar with this weedy artemisia, it is in one form the herb moxa used in acupuncture. It has healing properties when burned on a patient. I had it work one time when the practitioner burned a cyst from the top of my hand. It was quite remarkable, actually.

I managed to kill quite a few broccoli transplants. It was super hot in the greenhouse two weeks back when we had that lovely, unseasonably warm spell. I hauled out all the perennials, cole crops, and snapdragons. Then we had two extremely cold and windy days. Oddly enough, the snapdragons were the only ones showing no effect. The foxgloves look completely burned, while it will take a miracle to revive the broccoli. Oh well! Live and rarely learn.

I am like a little pit bull. It is difficult, if not impossible, for me to let go of something once I sink my teeth into it. This certainly is true in my relationship with my gardens. I will continue planting the same things in the same way long past usefulness or reason.

I can’t say I’m proud or ashamed to admit this, but I do not understand the computer. Now, I can Google in a pinch and wait impatiently behind someone showing me some supposed quick function while they make excuses for its slowness or an unsolicited advertisement popping up instead. In any event, last week’s column had a paragraph about my Dad mixing paint and using motor oil to condition the wood shingles on our house. The computer added “he” right before “used” which completely changed the idea I meant to say. I mentioned to Marie that my editor must have changed my sentence. She came to his defense and said the computer often “thinks” you meant to say something differently. Silly me, I only knew about spell check. The event made me think about quotes in the paper and how a single word, or letter even, can alter a person’s intention.

The little we had of winter seems to be over. Marie has a reseeded pansy blooming in her yard. There are a few daffodils flowering in protected locations. All of my crocuses are in full color — both the early ones and the jumbos. The spring birds are singing. I wish I knew them better. In my perfect life I would know everything.