I am finding that the weather is not exactly trending one way or another this year. And since I now fancy myself a bit of a mixed vegetable farmer, given the barely discernable presence of vegetables other than potatoes under my supervision, it sort of matters.
The beauty of lettuces is that once your reasonably healthy soil reaches a certain temperature, and you put a reasonably good piece of seed potato therein, the weather doesn’t really matter. They just want to grow and will do their best for you. Lettuce farming is nice like that.
Please don’t get any funny ideas and start growing all your own potatoes. You might think I am suggesting that they grow easy but they are really heavy and require good storage. Very awkward to handle. Totally unsuitable for gardens just about anywhere. Out of the question. Consider practicing your growing skills with cauliflower. However, I think it was $8 a head from California at the store recently. I myself have yet to figure out cauliflower.
So the weather seems fine for potatoes, but not tomatoes, and my issues with them continue. A loving and slightly desperate eye will be very willing to note that the plants have grown an inch or so this week, however vine support procedures are not yet necessary. Such is not the case at the neighbours, whose crop is no doubt imminent.
It’s not like I need any more issues. I lost my phone for 18 hours this week, and can write about it now only because it’s been found — in the back pocket of my work pants that I had placed in a slightly different location than normal. Not very far away at all from where they usually go. Might have been a mile.
Please don’t get any funny ideas and start growing all your own potatoes. You might think I am suggesting that they grow easy but they are really heavy and require good storage.
While that comfortable and familiar object was out of irresistible, compulsive and habitual reach, I had to go through some of the same symptoms of withdrawal that I think I remember from quitting smoking, which is apparently harder than kicking a heroin habit. Fortunately for the whole family I found the thing so was not subject to the full experience. However, that 18 hours is flagged for follow-up should I ever choose to more closely asses my addictive behaviour. For now, I’ll file it under: “security blankets: possibly insecure.”
Kneepads are my latest affectation (the segue is security blanket). My brother-in-law gave me the idea. He is a fancy builder and of course his appear to be hand-tooled padded leather with antique brass fittings, while mine are made of foam board with scratchy Velcro.
Regardless, they soften the ground and render me ready, willing and able to drop into a hand-weed, engage in a knee-plant for greater leverage, or crawl under equipment.
If you’ll allow the digression, I’ll just note that we don’t hand-weed the fields of potatoes. They don’t need it and we don’t do it. But all these mixed vegetables seem to need weeding. All the time. With hands. It’s expensive.
If your food is cheap it’s almost certainly due to the grower using chemicals to weed instead of hands. Your choice of course, but I thought you should know.
In acceptance of my life-long search for security, I have committed heavily to kneepads, and strategically sprinkled them about so I’ll never have to look very hard for a pair. The lost phone experience has reminded me that I want to avoid at all costs the slightly fluttery feeling warning me that what’s missing is a security blanket.
good