Everybody Gets Fed, Especially Me

August 11, 2010

Danny was here on Monday to look at his watermelon. He shook his head at trying a purple bean (which I ate), shook his head at trying at red pepper (which I ate), shook his head at trying the salad greens (which I ate) but did rub the basil in his hands and smell it. My mom snapped a purple bean in half, wondered that it was green inside and then remarked that a spider or a fly may have pooped on it. I rolled my eyes and ate that too.

I did not need lunch.

This morning, the watermelon had fallen to the ground, finally too heavy to be supported by its stem or the panty hose rig. Before I had a chance to determine whether it could be ripened somehow, I noticed bites, chews and scratches. Someone had a late night treat of Danny’s watermelon. I’ve left it there for now. I want to see how long it will last and if it will move around the yard. I would think anything strong enough to carry it away wouldn’t be interested in it, but I like the idea of the experiment.  I’ve pulled out all the zucchini. I’ve been sketching a plot for next year and zucchini are not included. Spinach will be.

I can’t cut basil right now or check the brussel sprouts. There is a little spider in a perfect web nestled in the middle of those and I don’t have it in my heart to destroy this ferris wheel she’s built. Yet.

It was warm and sunny,  like an open oven this morning. I could feel the heat on my back, squinting into the sun to see what the garden had to hold today. Mosquitos were out in force already at 8 am, buzzing, biting, launching a coordinated attack as they landed me a good one right on the jugular on my neck at the same time as they attacked my ears. The sun and the heat warmed all the plants, toasted the veggies and fruits.

Someone has eaten all the mushrooms. The field of mushrooms beneath the pin oak tree has been decimated, disappeared, decamped. It’s like they never existed. I thought gleefully of hordes of Damn Rabbits eating them and dying of sudden poisoning (though not in my yard). Upon some research, I find that while mushrooms appear suddenly, they usually disappear just as quickly. Dreams of dead Damn Rabbits dashed!

On the new mulch path, I found a green apple with the same kinds of tooth marks and nibbles in the watermelon. Given the size of this fruit, I’m thinking that was a squirrel who decided green apples just weren’t sweet enough. Rudely, she left it on the path for me to pick up and compost. Well, I left it there as well, to see if that moves in the night.

I love experiments.

The two acorn squash that made it to fruit  bloomed under a lucky star. What happened to the watermelon also happened to the squash; all the buds and blooms were nipped off and eaten, leaving bare lonely sticks to point towards the sun. While bird netting is a must for next year’s veggie garden, the accidental acorn squash must fend for itself.

The lone tomato on the Incredibly Stupid Upsy Daisy Tomato Planter was ripe and ready this morning. I picked it, red and firm and oval in my hands. The first bite tasted like sweet rain and yellow sunshine and the juices splattered on my t-shirt. Oh yum. For a minute, while I closed my eyes and enjoyed this perfect tomato on a perfect morning, I recanted all my whining about the upside down planter. Those. Three. Bites. Were. Utterly. Spectacular.

I opened my eyes, saw the vine was now bare and realized that with the cost of the planter, the soil to fill it, the plant to put it in and the water to feed it, I had just eaten a $13.79 tomato.


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