Yesterday I was a couple of hours late in watering my tomato plants. And they had already begun to crumple. Looks like once a day isn’t quite enough, and the new twice daily schedule starts today. Nature apparently has an unending supply of 90+ degree days in its storeroom, and has not been shy about trotting them out this summer. Today it will be 93 degrees, with 0% chance of rain.
Ho hum, SSDD.
Our tomatoes are coming in faster than we can eat them, and we’re going to start the process of preserving them without actually getting involved in canning. We plan to convert them into sauces of one kind or another.
We did this last year, and with our present abundance we expect it to work well this year as well.
P.Cluck has done so poorly in his last two recorded interviews that I’m beginning to be suspicious of his performances. In both of them he has come across as a complete dunderhead, and that may be all there is to it. Or could he be playing stupid, trying to lure a complacent Biden (and us) into a trap of some sort?
We’ll have to see … but after seeing his performance in the Axios interview, I think that Cluck might need help with basic living skills, like buttoning his clothes and flossing.
This is a photo of the tomatoes I harvested just today. We have already eaten many, and there are so many more to come. And all of this from three plants.
I was so elated after picking this huge bowlful that I ran indoors to look up who the god of gardeners might be, so that I could pay my respects. Imagine my surprise when I found this:
PRIAPOS (Priapus) was the god of vegetable gardens. He was also a protector of beehives, flocks and vineyards. Priapos was depicted as a dwarfish man with a huge member, symbolising garden fertility. He wore a peaked Phrygian cap, indicating his origin as a Mysian god, and carried a basket weighed down with fruit.https://www.theoi.com/Georgikos/Priapos.html
His cult was introduced to Greece from Lampsakos (Lampsacus) in Asia Minor and his mythology subsequently reinterpreted. Primitive statues of the god were set-up in vegetable gardens to promote fertility. These also doubled as scarecrows, keeping the birds away.
I had thought of placing a small statue of the god as a sort of cosmic thank you, but I’m afraid that I would have to make a request of our HOA before installing anything resembling a dwarf with a huge member.
There would definitely be talk.
This is the summer that I discovered the music of Ali Farka Touré, and I love it. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the gentleman died in 2006, so I’m a little late to the party.
Touré was born just five days after I was, on October 31, 1939. He went on to become one of the world’s great guitarists, and I didn’t. He was tall, dark, and handsome, while I was not. Otherwise, we could have been twins.
Here he is in the last year of his life, showing us that it’s not the sheer number of notes that you play, but where and how you put them. Beautiful restraint.