The Failed Gamble

A few weeks ago I mentioned a gamble we'd made, my son and I. We had wagered that the closer we got to Mother's Day, the less likely we were to have a freeze.
The "last danger of frost" date here is May 15th, but as a rule, my community generally hits the gardens on Mother's Day. May 12th, May 15th, close enough, right?
Wrong.
Ah, the trials and tribulations of gardening.
I was oh so very wrong.
Last night, or rather, early this morning, temperatures dropped down to 32 degrees (Fahrenheit, yo, because the US was only kidding when we legislated a switch to la vida Metric back in the 1970s), and tonight will drop as much as two degrees colder.
Lovely, just lovely.
This means my yard is a sea of impromptu shelters. If it were autumn, it'd be awash in spare bedding, but tender seedlings aren't really meant to be weighted down so much. Instead, every milk jug I've hoatrded, every two-liter I've come across, and a few other odd bottles have been cut open to make mini-greenhouse shelters. I've overturned plastic bins to cover tiny seedlings grouped still in flats too numerous to carry in, and fitted potted plants too large to carry in with doubled plastic grocery bags. Yes, I sometimes forget my reusables, and then I hold on to the plastic bags until I find something useful to do with them or remember to bring them back to the store for recycling.
Either way, we gambled on fair weather and lost. Here's to hoping the few uncovered plants make it through well, and that my lilac bushes, just preparing to bloom, aren't too adversely affected by the cold snap.