Seven Rings, Every TimeThe other day as I was walking around, I noticed a woman approaching on the walkway from the opposite direction. The first striking thing about her was that she was having a conversation with a banana. In true classic style, the banana was held to her ear and chin, and so she strode, purposefully chatting.
Which was the second thing. I discovered at that moment that I've learned a little about how to recognize when people are on a cell phones while walking. These days, there are often few clues to this: the troubling thing was not that the woman was having a conversation with a banana, but rather that I could tell that said conversation was utterly in earnest.
Well. When she was only a few steps away, I could see that she had a slim phone tucked inside the curve of the banana. She was carrying things in the other hand, and how else would one hold a phone and a banana with one hand to take a call? Everything snapped back into sense.
As a coda (and I'm not helping at all here, I know), if bananular isn't a world by now, it probably should be.
Under SoilI think at this point the season is going to be mostly spent tending, prodding, and generally paying attention to the vegetable gardens and various other edibles. I am nibbling at the thought of flowers, shrubs, and other things that are neither edible nor grass, but all of that will be in time, in time. I need to learn to build walls in curves.
Indeed: I have set myself some work. In the west patch I have, from west to east: a super marzano and early girl (tomato), red beauty and anaheim (peppers), and two viva italia (tomato, again), interspersed with basil and marigolds, all now living under a comfortable blanket of mulch. In the north patch are the herbs (chives, parsley, winter savory, purple sage, oregano, rosemary, and thyme), the spinach, the onions, a pickle cucumber and an eggplant, along with a brandywine (tomato). The okra is hanging on, but feeble, and the cilantro is still reticent (trying that from seed). The horse radish looms large and Jurrasic in a half barrel. I need to figure out where I'm putting the rhubarb, and soon.
In the front, the strawberries are coming in waves. Even with the lossage to the squirrels, I can pull a pint of deep red from down in the leaves every few days. I have long been a fan of local berries from local markets. The berries in the front yard are excessively local, and I can leave them on the stem until they are ready. Such a difference!
There is a sunflower in the front yard, too, still in the pot. I've learned in the past week that I have to worry about windage up here, when I plant. Its already fallen over once. Hopefully, I can set it so it will grow to top the hedge, to peek over and down the street to greet those who walk the rise. The front yard needs more whimsey.
My prediction: on August 12th, I will have an unnerving amount of tomato.
TractionMy Brother is in the living room, mixing.
Castles and Rivers...but the highlight, I think, was the bread. There was lightly fried flat bread dusted with garlic and salt. There was a rustic whole-grain loaf, served on a plank with a knife to cut it with (no butter; it was used to sop up the stew). There was more fried bread, this time with powdered sugar and dried fruits.
Then there was wine.
And now I can eat no more.
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