After what seemed like endless limbo, some of my watermelon seedlings got the urge to grow. I wonder if there's still time for them to produce before the first frost.
A couple weeks ago I suddenly remembered we have hoses and a pump near the garden. Mother Nature also began to chip in two nights ago. These Georgia candy roasters look grateful.
Here's a sister squash, a late-blooming butternut.
"Enough with the squash," says Virginia. "Don't you have something foreign?"
How about Chinese?
These Chinese "yard-long" green beans offer two advantages: (1) one bean is equivalent to five or more regular-sized green beans; and (2) I don't have to bend over to pick them.
For another "foreign" project, a cellist friend from the Eastern Shore sent me several of her pomegranates. I planted the seeds in a big pot in my greenhouse last Fall, then waited and waited, faithfully watering a couple gallons of dirt. Finally, in late Spring, green appeared. Weeds? I don't know for absolute sure, but I transplanted them anyway, into smaller pots filled with super-rich soil donated by a friend. Thank you, Scott.
When I look back thirty years
I wonder how I got here.
I did not expect my future,
I did not plan it.
I knew the dreams I had were fiction,
professional basketball player,
Supreme Court justice,
father of six or seven.
My short-term goals were something less,
chosen just before each gentle turn
I charged with focus down the line.
Then something happened,
I shifted right, then left, then right again,
and I landed exactly
where I wish I had dreamed
I would be today.