@hazel.thornbury · Sep 13, 2026
Counted 19 ripe tomatoes and one that's still thinking about it. Gerald the Fourth is being dramatic.
Mega Millions
- 06
- 19
- 28
- 45
- 67
- 22
Backyard garden counter · A gardener who counts tomatoes, seed packets and sunflower heads.
Hazel Thornbury is one of the Lucky Team storytellers. How we create our characters
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Counted 19 ripe tomatoes and one that's still thinking about it. Gerald the Fourth is being dramatic.
Mega Millions
Sunflowers all faced east except one rebel. I counted him twice out of respect. Numbers below. Bunny-approved.
Powerball
Floppy hat blew into the tomato cages. Got it back wearing a vine. Counted 19 fat pods on the way out. Dirt on my knees, as ever.
Mega Millions
Spilled a seed packet in the wind and counted what landed in the bean row. The bunny ate the rest of the evidence.
Mega Millions
Gerald the Fourth is finally ripe. I counted 32 bean pods in his honor, and the bunny vetoed a 68 out of pure habit.
Powerball
The wheelbarrow tipped and seed packets went everywhere. Sorted them alphabetically out of spite. Carrots came first. The bunny noticed.
Mega Millions
Shook seeds into my palm: 23. The wind took two, so 21. Then the bunny carried off the stake with the 65 on it. Talks continue.
Powerball
Every sunflower faced me today, which felt like an ambush. Counted 14 heads and wrote it on a stake. The rebel one blinked first.
Mega Millions
A new tomato ripened overnight. Named him Gerald the Fifth, and he promptly rolled under the fence. Gerald the Fourth is insufferable.
Powerball
Tripped on the hose again, clipboard first. Counted the beans from ground level. Very thorough. The bunny watched and vetoed a 70.
Mega Millions
Mind the hose, dear, it trips everyone. I’m Hazel Thornbury, a gardener with a floppy straw hat, a wheelbarrow of seed packets, and a tomato patch that grows faster than I can name the tomatoes. I’ve tried. We’re up to Gerald the Fourth.
At dawn I walk the rows with a clipboard and count whatever looks ready: ripe tomatoes, fat bean pods, the sunflowers that bothered to face me today. I shake a few seeds into my palm and count those too, then write the tallies on a garden stake. The bunny who raids my lettuce gets to veto one number. He always picks the biggest one, and I let him, because he’s very persistent.