She may have been right, but I still didn’t appreciate thistles trying to choke the dahlias.

I set my little pink wheelbarrow down and dropped to my knees. I should have brought a foam knee pad with me since I was wearing a dress and my knees were bare, but after a while, I became rather immune to the pressure I felt against them.

I knew I must have looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care. At least I’d thought to grab my gardening gloves. There was nothing creeping about the spiny leaves of the thistle that had exploded everywhere, and while the Herb Robert was welcome in the wildflower meadow to do as it pleased, the same could not be said for the dahlia garden.

I also removed a few errant slugs who were hiding in and amongst the foliage. They were even less welcome than the weeds. I wished with all my heart that they would eat the weeds, if I was honest.

There were plenty of those.

“What are you doing?”

I squealed and dropped a giant slug onto my lap. “Ew!” I quickly retrieved it and put it in the wheelbarrow, then looked up at Miles. “You scared me.”

He stared at me. “What are you doing?”

I glanced down at the pile of weeds in the wheelbarrow. “Planting vegetables.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he tried not to smile. Sadly, I knew better, and it would take more than my exemplary wit to get Mr. Grumpy over there to smile.

“You’re doing my job.”

I sighed, tossing another weed into the barrow. “I know, but I need to destress, so I thought I’d do something useful and therapeutic.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “You find weeding therapeutic.”

“You don’t?” I questioned.

“Not particularly. It’s more tedious than anything.”

“You’re weird.”

“I don’t know a single person who enjoys weeding, and I know a great many gardeners.”

“Then they aren’t doing it correctly,” I argued. “What isn’t enjoyable about yanking out a weed? It’s like eating the heads off Jelly Babies.”

He stared at me for a moment. “Do you have a God complex?”

“I did spend an inordinate amount of time playing The Sims when I was younger,” I replied, tilting my head to the side. “That explains a lot.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, if you’re really enjoying yourself, it’s worse in the vegetable garden. Oxalis is threatening to take over the squash bed.”

“Are you giving me permission to play in your precious vegetable garden?”

He shrugged. “It’s your garden. I can’t stop you going anywhere.”

Huh.

“Can I go in the greenhouse?”

“You’re not going in my greenhouse.”

“You just said you can’t stop me going anywhere.”

“I didn’t mean the greenhouse when I said that.”

“But you didn’t exclude it, so I can go in it.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at me for a long moment. “Talking to you is exhausting.”

“I know. That’s probably why nobody is right now.” I plucked one last weed from the dahlias. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to play in the vegetable garden. While I loved roses and dahlias, there was something immensely satisfying about vegetable gardening.