What you're supposed to be doing.

I'm trying not to think about the IRS situation, so I'm taking stock of all the things that *are* doing what they're supposed to be doing right now.

Unlike the IRS. Who I'm trying not to think about.

LOSERS.

Ok, the garden...yes...right...

Unlike last season at this time, when I had already begun to replace croaking plants, I am actually seeing some pretty impressive, if not downright alarming growth happening in the veg beds.

Alarming:

These much requested snap peas have done blown past the top of their "pea fence" which we now call a "pea fence" instead of a Pea Fence because it's obviously not built tall enough for Peas, just "peas". Know what I mean? You know.

But, I suppose that since they're doing what they're supposed to be doing, I'm fine with it. If someone would get out to the fence and eat them so they'd quit falling over on the wee cucumber plants, that'd be great, too.

Impressive:

I don't recall having ever eaten a fresh-from-the-garden strawberry in May before, but as you know, that is old news this season and now I'm staring at a whole bunch of them. Well, I was. Until some bastard birds caught wind of the whole scenario and began their assault on my unguarded fruits.

Now it is not only I who has tasted a May strawberry, but also a flock of very lucky birds. Or perhaps one really big one. Who has not yet been struck down by the bird hunting dog. Lucky him.


Also pretending to be impressive is the aforementioned hidden-beneath-the-overgrown-peas cucumber plants who are currently playing an annoying game of bait and switch with me that I do not appreciate. One day, they look like this, all green and frisky and tiny miniatures of their future huge tasty selves. The next day, they are little shriveled used-to-be miniatures that get flicked off the plant while I say bad words.

I'm chalking it up to the lack of pollination since the bees are still flying around our yard in a confused haze wondering what happened to winter. They may not be ready to pollinate the tinnies just yet.

Relief:

Last season I had a minor meltdown when my tomato plants, which I was "growing" from seed, were transferred outside during, what I now refer to as, my Killing Season. As it turns out, I am not so hot when it comes to hardening off tender seedlings and, thus, they all died over an unseasonably warm weekend when I was probably watching the Giants lose instead of watching my plants fry in the yard. Oh the choices.

However! The tomato plants this season are a totally different story. First, I did not grow them from seed, because I do not enjoy torturing myself, and second, they are alive and sort of bursting. They've (at least) quadrupled in size since I put them in the ground and now they're blooming, which leads me to believe that there will be tomatoes. Warm, delicious, summertime tomatoes. The kind that I'll eat right off the plant without even washing them.

OH YES. No washing! And that is why organic gardening is awesome.

Also good:

This is the replacement cantaloupe blooming in the graveyard of it's seedling predecessors who didn't make it to this stage because they were mercilessly gnawed to death by an evil being. I think it was some kind of bug. Stupids.

But now it's blooming and, again, I believe this means that fruit is coming. Which also means that I will soon be using up all those lemons by squirting them all over these cantaloupe (Have you not tried this? Do it now.) and eating them right up. Right out there in the yard. NO WASHING!

This is one of the few specimens to survive the mad bug buffet intact. I started it indoors and then transplanted to the garden once it had enough leaves so that the bugs could chew on it without killing it before it got strong enough to fend for itself. This is the Big Max pumpkin. Legend has it that it will produce 100 lb+ pumpkins.

I say, bring it.

***

So, now you're up to speed on the garden progress which I know comes as a great relief to one and all. And at this very moment, Bubba is in the backyard hauling the Evil Tree Stumps to the truck, so I better get out there and help him.

Well, at least with that one *special* tree stump that fell over on my unguarded chicken shin last weekend and has rendered me a whining bruised mess. Sure, I shouldn't be fucking around with the woodpile in my shorts and flip-flops, but there's a lot of things I *shouldn't* be doing. Like going out to the yard right now, with my ax, to *carefully* transport this *special* stump to the truck with all my tender care.

Someone, dial 9-1- and wait for me to holler?

Great weekends to all!

P.S. The IRS sucks