Last year, I had the crazy idea that if I took apart the panels on the dog's pen, I could enlarge his lockdown area by connecting the panels to the end of ramp and the side of the porch steps. It worked great for several months. Then we had a young man from church come over and help out with some yardwork. Buster could not stand it that Bobby and someone else were within his sight, and he couldn't be there. So this is what he did:
I was pleased with how plants we've planted, both around the house and in the garden, were blooming.
And then this weekend the chickens figured out a way to get over the fence. They've scratched up the one half row of spinach I had (which would have been ready in a week or two), and pulled up about four pea plants. Then Bobby spotted Peter Rabbit from last year (just a whole lot bigger) heading towards the garden. I'm hoping he's grown enough he won't make it through the fence this year, but Bobby says he'll just tunnel under. I hope not. I'm starting to think it's just not meant for me to have a garden.