at least it is whole berry

2

The Strawberry Snail: Bird Netted

I left twice as many strawberry plants scattered around the forest garden without protection, but put a bird net over the strawberry snail garden. They get their fruit, and I make sure I get mine.

It’s easiest to do so on this little spiral raised bed, as opposed to covering the whole “forest floor” where the rest of the berries are located.

Bees can come in and out to pollinate any remaining flowers, and I make sure to check the net at least once a day in case anyone manages to get trapped in it.

After a devastating loss at Powder Puff last night, 

I have to admit that getting to tackle and attack felt kind of good. I might need to look into a kickboxing class of some sort; or at least, a healthy way to let out pent up aggression before I do decide violence may just be the answer to some problems. 

On the other side, we have three more performances of Rock of Ages, and while half the cast is fighting amongst themselves, you’re all going to have to suck it up and focus on stage. We can’t let bad decisions and backstabbing ruin what could be a good move for Bay Grove as a whole - for future Rachel Berry’s, I owe them that much at least. 

And though we won’t be headed to the lake house, the Berry family will be hosting a small get together after Sunday evening’s performance with pizza and punch to celebrate our first success at a musical. Karaoke is a given, some come prepared with your favorite song. 

3

They call me ‘the scientist’. Well, alright by me, at least it’s gender neutral. And, condescending or not, they are right. I AM a scientist. Obsessed with time and the changes of elements while time passes. I sometimes invent nice futuristic things too, but mostly I just analyse all kinds of materials.

The name’s Nill Fluorescent. I come from a long line of raw white berries, so long that the genetics glitched out at some point and I was gifted with a thing called chameleon syndrome, meaning I can change colors - not the whole me though. Just a splotch of skin on my face and one of my eyes. Special, I know. But just wait, it gets much more special, because I’m going to tell you my story. It might not be the nicest one, and it will definitely not make sense. Who am I kidding! I would have been totally okay with it being half as crazy. But it’s how it is, and I wouldn’t want to change anything now. Not again.