Posted by TFG on March 17th, 2013
I got to spend most of yesterday outdoors in the sun yesterday, piddling around, wearing shorts, and working on tomato plants. That’s 50 some tomato plants up there, with the Wall of Water system in place trying to get a jump on spring. They were planted Wednesday, and in just three days, we lost seven to cutworms. Much hullabaloo and tearing about with styrofoam cups and Sevin dust occurred to handle the pestilential outbreak. This is only important in that, for 52 years, I would not willingly allow a tomato past my lips in it’s whole form. Until I ate, somewhat under duress, home-grown tomatoes. I’m a convert. I still look at them askance, with all that gore just under their tender skin, but I do eat them heartily now. I still want nothing to do with a tomato on my cheeseburger, thanks. Or a supermarket tomato — those are just sawdust or something.
Today will be corn planting, and more piddling around. Spring is great. It makes a man feel good, to be outside. I gots the strength of a new-born kitten, and the stamina of one of those Walmart scooter people, but it’s good to stretch myself some, I think, and try to get out of the damn winter Tub-O-Guts mode. Learned a little something, too. Tomatoes are an extremely delicate crop, with practically everything conspiring against them.
This post brought to you by five days after chemo, and two days after opiods. I can feel like a human being, you see, but only after detox, apparently. Man, that stuff is rough, but there are only five more courses to go, and there’s always the chance that lightning strikes and I get to stop early. When I do stop, I’m taking a week near a beach and look at girls in bikinis and tan my bald old head.
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