The sky is filled with silver clouds scuttling by like lazy bovines grazing across the horizon. Last night, as I drove home (oh such a short distance. Just up the hill) the tops of the pines were awash with water-color drench of bronze. Fall is peeking through, and we have had no Spring, not much summer. My tomatoes are large, but green.. and I will either surprise my love with fried green tomatoes (and a watching of the movie which bears the name) OR they will ripen until lusciousness rich ripe fresh garden tomatoes.
I have so much to do with my Farm. This is a picture of my first garden plot:
I have made many mistakes in this new life.
Such as: improper weed abatement. Not having any first hand knowledge of just how pernicious Oregon weeds, grasses, and blackberries are, I thought a stern warning would suffice. Au Contraire, mon aimes! Nay! These scoff at my stern warnings, and indeed, add them to the fertilizer of their disdain.
Now, this would not be nearly as much trouble as it seems, but I have chosen to go organic in all things, have chosen to leave tender footprints on this land. This land which has been neglected, abused, forsaken. I have chosen to pursue the Higher Ground. This leaves me with cardboard and newspapers and vinegar, with constant diligent hand-yanking, hoeing, and on-my-knees praying to the Great Spirit of the Garden Fairies.
I WILL prevail, but Lordy! Lordy! It will take longer than I thought. Ah, that's OK, I have a portable CD, earplugs, and good tools. Life is Good.