My peas aren't doing so well.

The peas in the garden box at Dunwoody Nature Center are thriving. They've emerged from seeds and are twining their way up the trellis with lush green vigor.

The peas in the garden box chez Knitternall are downright embarrassing. They're pathetic. They thrust out a few pea pods just to get my hopes up then laid back down, exhausted, on the ground.

Same box design. Same mix of vermiculite, peat moss, and compost. Same watering cycle.

Blast it.

The romaine is bursting with leafy goodness. The beans are perky and the brussel sprouts are surging out of the soil. Twelve out of 16 square foot sections of the Knitternall square foot garden box are growing majestically according to plan. But all I can think about are the peas. I love peas. I planted four square feet with peas because I wanted as much bounty as my little garden could muster.

I tried to give peas a chance. For naught. Oh well, there's always the farmer's market (though I may have to drive to Druid Hills if Dunwoody can't figure out a way to embrace the mom and pop sensibility of farmer's markets.)