In the summertime, Matt and I head out to the garden every evening and collect eggs and pick our garden bounty for the day like we live on a true farm instead of smack dab in the middle of suburbia. Usually my garden basket is filled with three eggs and five thousand pounds of tomatoes because January Laura may have overestimated how many tomatoes August Laura can actually eat.
We have a little fence around our garden, about two feet high, just to keep the bunnies out. As I was leaving the garden on Friday evening, my shoe got caught in the fence, I couldn't stop myself because my hands were full holding the basket, and I just sloooowly tipped right over, and fell out of the garden.
The fall was slow, and admittedly quite graceful, but I ended up on my back, on the lawn, surrounded by about 287 tomatoes. My arm felt a little bit wet, and I realized I'd also fallen on two of the three eggs. And crushed them.
I wish I could explain to you Matt's face when he came around from behind the shed and saw me sprawled out, on the lawn, surrounded by tomatoes and covered in raw egg. Nothing was injured except for my ego, and that bruise healed enough for me to pick my sister up bright and early Saturday morning for some thrift shopping. Our first stop was Dunkin' Donuts, obviously.
We did a little thrifting and bought some books, and then decided to take a walk in the gardens around a cathedral and some estates. I like to walk here but Emily had never been (what?!) and she loved it.
First, we decided to see if we could pose like fashion bloggers and SPOILER ALERT, WE CANNOT. Also, I don't think we look alike at all, but apparently we both look to the sky when we laugh.
I also experience some major garden envy. Plus there were no fences here, so nothing for me to fall out of.