There is No Cilantro in A Jungle

My tiny home is currently a jungle of seedlings. The prowling miniature lion and tiger (read: cats) and giant, whip-tailed dogs are their enemy. Casualties are mounting. Funeral plans for the green onions and lettuce are in the works and we’ve said good-bye to two purple basil.

At first glance the cilantro may appear to be attempting suicide (daily), sprawled and splattered on the floor, though I’m quite sure further investigation will show attempted murder is the charge. Tiny, dirt paw prints tattoo the floor heading away from the scene . . .

I’ve recently added spinach, beans, cherry tomatoes and sweet basil to the mix. Lion and tiger were perched on the fridge top as I prepared to lay the seeds; they love to supervise the exchange of dirt from bag to pot. Their normal, gentle, purr-pattern echoed with a harsh, moderately melodic grumble as I worked . . .”Welcome to the jungle, baby! You’re gonna die!”