hot hot hot hot hot hot hot.
Highly oppressive and I, in protest, do not fail to turn into a useless lump every time the wall thermometer clicks upwards of 95 degrees. And yet everything else in the yard (doglette thankfully excepted) seems to think this is prime opportunity to kick into high gear:
- Kept aggressively slug and snail free, these grew so big I pretty much look like this every night before dinner.
- It’s hard to believe that these enormous things came out of a cardboard box looking like this in December, and these misshapen things turned, exactly as promised, into a little waist-high, feathery forest. Raspberries and asparagus, respectively, for those who don’t automatically picture the side-dish on sight of the plant responsible.
- The sheer size of this (that’s my HIP for scale!) doesn’t allow it to lurk in a corner like it used to. It has yet to live up to its reputation and send someone limping for first aid, but it did give us the purple and yellow flowers I thought it much to mean-spirited to manage.
- Authentically-Mothered Nuggets grew up into scruffy and redheaded teenagers who, not surprisingly, love chickens more than they love people. And people more than cats. And cats more than grey and red spotted mutts.
- And each little clove of this grew into an entire one of these, which absolutely blows my mind. Also the purple stripes. Gah.
I am prideful and a bit dizzy. Some of that is agricultural, the rest probably low-grade heat exhaustion.
Tick tock, tomatoes. You’re the consolation that puts the rest to shame — for who could walk outside amongst hundreds of you and not find sense in every part of your equation?