I can hear Gramma Jan's voice out there: "You've got to do something with your life besides pulling weeds!" Amen. But what?
Look at this tomato.
It was a mutant twin, just barely starting to yellow up from green, but the bugs got it. They bored deeply into the fruit and disconnected it from the stem, so it would just sit there and rot. Not content to eat and destroy, they left wads of poop behind as well. Reminds me of the restrooms at the public park. Why did I plant a garden again? The poor economy, right? The influence of Dmitry Orlov, perhaps? A hormonal spaz attack?
I'm not discouraged, but I'm reconsidering. Many years ago I worked with a lady named Margie Hong. For some reason she felt I should know that when her mother was given three months to live, she went out and planted a garden. If I had three months to live, I would probably spend the time decluttering and deciding what to wear. I don't think I'd plant a garden.
The kiss of the sun for pardon
The song of the birds for mirth;
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on the earth.
Help! All this pardoning is giving me heatstroke! And I don't believe I've told you yet what I think of the birds and their singing, either.
Whatsamatter with me? I spend all these years trying to protect my child from the degrading and dampening influences of the sorting and separating that goes on in public schools, and the minute I grow a few beans I start grading them by size and productivity and prettiness. I take pictures of beans with a ruler, for crying out loud! I've tried to shield BJ from competitiveness and aggression, and then when I get out there in the garden I'm stomping June Bugs and pouring ammonia down ant hills. You'd think our lives depended upon a handful of beans. Ortho Brands taps into this primal territoriality with their slogan, "Defend What's Yours." This ain't a hobby, friends, it's a war.
Well, that was probably the best rationalization for being a lazy bum that I've done for at least 24 hours or more. Here's the second carrot I've extracted, complete with requisite ruler:
In fact, I think I'll think I'll give this image a title: "Carrot and Stick." It practically names itself. Check out the size of that carrot, too. Once the stringy root, top, and dirt were scraped off there was one-and-a-quarter inches of carroty goodness. Microwaving shrunk it another half-inch. [Don't forget: "IRVINE RECYCLES."]
You know what they say, "Two's company, but three's a collection." Actually I just said that, you can google it. Finally I was able to serve a collection of vegetables with our barbecued chicken. Tomatoes, carrot, and beans. BJ choked down an inch of bean and the very tip of the carrot, his shoulders heaving and nostrils flared for extra oxygen. Poor child, gardening is so very hard on him.
You know what they say, "Two's company, but three's a collection." Actually I just said that, you can google it. Finally I was able to serve a collection of vegetables with our barbecued chicken. Tomatoes, carrot, and beans. BJ choked down an inch of bean and the very tip of the carrot, his shoulders heaving and nostrils flared for extra oxygen. Poor child, gardening is so very hard on him.
I just have to say that was one beautiful mouthful of carrot. It tasted like a carrot, not like dirt or plastic or watery fiber, but like I imagine a carrot should taste if a carrot tasted like a carrot should. I mean that. Or I think I mean that, or something like it. I did mention at the beginning of this post that I was feeling confused.And I think next year I'll be planting a garden again.
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