I dashed up and out of the trapdoor today to check on the recent tomato addition from Dig, ahead of the promised wind and rain. I am not hopeful about it. I think it had been in the shade too long, and too damp, and the stem seems very weak where it meets the roots.
Little fitful squalls were blowing over the roof. For five minutes water came pattering down from the sky, and now there is another lull. Please let it rain long, long, long.
The watemelon grows fast. This is probably not news to watermelon farmers, but it is to me. Which makes me think of Suttree, and Cormac McCarthy, where bad things happen to good watermelons.
More are promised.
Of course, one day I will be posting a picture of a stem, no watermelon. And Someone was stomping on the roof this morning, maybe the laird of Raccon Manor, checking on his drains.
Nevermind green fingers, I have green feet.
It seemed time:
So today I will make the first very small batch of pickles.
It was the 4th of July when these were but a whisker big. I really cannot think of an easier crop to grow.
And as I reach the end of the post, the rain is pelting the skylight, bouncing off the clear plexiglass seats of the chairs on the terrace, and running down the glass sliding door.
Long may it last.