Yami, Fearsome Goddess of Mint
The sky when I woke up was the color of the sky at the end of the world. Barbie’s Nuclear Holocaust pink. I went out to see what malevolence had destroyed the day’s marine layer, and to water my garden.
I water every other day, and if I forget, everything goes into a coma. The pansies do this high school drama queen thing where they sprawl out as far as their leaves will stretch and fall down, maybe leaving a crumpled flower upturned in a gesture of unique bathos. My tomato, moribund after an overenthusiastic dose of copper soap, looked like it had finally given up the ghost (some of the bottom leaves are still okay).
The word of the day is mulch.