Here you see a tomato plant seedling, only three days in the ground, filled with sorrow because its overzealous owners planted it in a garden in Chicago (Horto in Urbs in Horto?) in mid-April, well before the final possible frost date, and because now the forecasters are prediciting a chilly, chilly night, against which it has nothing to protect itself:
Have no fear, little one! We take care of our charges, Sarah and I do. Before the light went down last night, we brought out our stash of kitty poop bags (you may know them as grocery bags) and created a bootleg sanctuary for all the young plants.
We crossed our fingers and went inside for the night. When we pulled the bags off this morning, they all pretty much looked the same, which is to say they didn’t look any worse, which is about the best we could hope for. It’s supposed to be sunny today, so I’m hoping the worst is behind us and the garden will thrive from here on out. Otherwise, this could be an expensive lesson in what should otherwise be a pretty obvious fact about predicting the weather in Chicago.