Why My Garden Matters Part 2

I was warned in the parking lot on my way into into work this morning not to look at the pictures on the front page of the newspaper. I was warned again later in the day. As I drove up my my driveway I saw the paper lying there and thought, "I can handle this. It will fuel my boycott of BP." I turned the paper over and burst into tears, the sobs escaping in chokes and gulps. The bird resembled a monster from a children's story, it's featureless face and limp body covered in oil so thick it could barely lift its head. Its mouth hung open in a soundless cry as my voice carried up the driveway. I walked inside and gave into the tears, letting them flow down my cheeks. I couldn't stop crying so I did what I knew would make the world a better place: I gardened.