I've lived here for over 30 years, done the same thing pretty much every morning, and yet have not learned to dodge the inevitable spider web between the fence and the milk house. Duh! Do you suppose that web is spun day after day, year after year by the same spider? How long do spiders live, anyway? Are we equally dense?
Reminds me ... my sister and I once attended a Master Gardeners' class all about spiders. A spider expert lectured for over an hour and a half -- all about spiders. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about spiders that day. She told us scientific counts show over 11,000 spiders per acre in the U.S. That's a lot of spiders! She also suggested we go out at night with a flashlight and shine it over a grassy field. All the little eyeballs would reflect the light. Does that make you woozy, or what?!?
Yesterday I nearly kilt myself in the hot sun. I wanted to finish tackling the weeds in the asparagus bed, and even though I was beginning to get nauseous from the heat, I thought that if I just continued a little bit longer, I'd have it done and off my ticket. Well, I DID get it done, but had to lie down in the shade of a gate covered in hops vine until I could regain enough strength to stagger inside. Then I grabbed a drink of water and ice packs, and lay down on the bed to recuperate. Yes, I know better, but ...
Today was just as hot, so I didn't try anything so strenuous. I resolved to merely pick whatever needed picking and then head inside before it got too hot. I finally finished up picking beans (I hate picking things, but beans are among the worst) just before noon. I was out there about four hours when it was all said and done. Tomorrow was supposed to be rainy, so I didn't want to leave anything behind, fearing that by the time I could get back out there, I'd have zucchini the size of Montana, and total mushballs for tomatoes. Beans just cannot be trusted on the on the vine one extra day.
Speaking of picking tomatoes ... I wish I had a picture of my geese lined up on the other side of the fence like refugees. When they see me in the tomato patch, they come running, knowing I'll be tossing them goodies over the garden fence. It still cracks me up, after all the years it has been going on in the same way. Did you see the movie, "Nemo"? Geese are like the seagulls in that movie ... "Mine! Mine! Mine!" only their squabbling is more of a honk! honk! Sqawk! (the sound one makes when another pinches it in the butt)
I wound up with a ton of produce that I now have to do something about. DH offered to take it with him to NYC tomorrow and pass it out along his way. Sounds like a plan.
But what shall I have for today for lunch? Hmmm ... choices, choices ...
Reminds me ... my sister and I once attended a Master Gardeners' class all about spiders. A spider expert lectured for over an hour and a half -- all about spiders. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about spiders that day. She told us scientific counts show over 11,000 spiders per acre in the U.S. That's a lot of spiders! She also suggested we go out at night with a flashlight and shine it over a grassy field. All the little eyeballs would reflect the light. Does that make you woozy, or what?!?
Yesterday I nearly kilt myself in the hot sun. I wanted to finish tackling the weeds in the asparagus bed, and even though I was beginning to get nauseous from the heat, I thought that if I just continued a little bit longer, I'd have it done and off my ticket. Well, I DID get it done, but had to lie down in the shade of a gate covered in hops vine until I could regain enough strength to stagger inside. Then I grabbed a drink of water and ice packs, and lay down on the bed to recuperate. Yes, I know better, but ...
Today was just as hot, so I didn't try anything so strenuous. I resolved to merely pick whatever needed picking and then head inside before it got too hot. I finally finished up picking beans (I hate picking things, but beans are among the worst) just before noon. I was out there about four hours when it was all said and done. Tomorrow was supposed to be rainy, so I didn't want to leave anything behind, fearing that by the time I could get back out there, I'd have zucchini the size of Montana, and total mushballs for tomatoes. Beans just cannot be trusted on the on the vine one extra day.
Speaking of picking tomatoes ... I wish I had a picture of my geese lined up on the other side of the fence like refugees. When they see me in the tomato patch, they come running, knowing I'll be tossing them goodies over the garden fence. It still cracks me up, after all the years it has been going on in the same way. Did you see the movie, "Nemo"? Geese are like the seagulls in that movie ... "Mine! Mine! Mine!" only their squabbling is more of a honk! honk! Sqawk! (the sound one makes when another pinches it in the butt)
I wound up with a ton of produce that I now have to do something about. DH offered to take it with him to NYC tomorrow and pass it out along his way. Sounds like a plan.
But what shall I have for today for lunch? Hmmm ... choices, choices ...
... and then, there are bagloads more out on the porch to deal with ... (sigh)
OMG, what are you going to do with all that squash?? Do you have a pickle recipe for it?
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