"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Friday, July 23, 2010

A Morning Meander

I realize that I should, perhaps, be a teency weency bit more organized. I wouldn't want to overdo it or anything. OCD looms darkly in the distance and must be respected and avoided at all costs. (Cue those who know me into hysterical, side splitting laughter at this juncture). Before I actually begin the tale, let me state, for the record and posterity, that I am able to be organized and can, if required to, juggle many balls simultaneously and to a good end. That said, I am usually more like the song from the early seventies which some of you may remember: Windmills of My Mind, by Michael Le Grand. It was used in the movie The Thomas Crowne Affair. If you are not familiar with this catchy little ditty, let me give you the first, rambling line. " Like a circle in a spiral like a wheel within a wheel, never ending or beginning on an ever turning reel. Like a snowball down a mountain or a carnival balloon, like a carousel that's turning, running rings around the moon. Like a clock whose hands are spinning past the minutes on it's face, and the world is like an apple spinning silently in space, like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind." There are several more verses and your mind will be spinning by the time you get to the end of all that turning and spinning, and whirling, etc... The trick is, of course, to sing as much of it as you can without taking another breath. (We were bored at the time, obviously). But I digress. This morning I decided to can the few measly tomatoes I had gleaned from the garden. I blanched and peeled them and went out to the garden to see if I could find any 'johnny-come-latelies' to add to the pot. I took along the blackberry bucket and did, indeed, find four or five good sized ones, a few nice Romas and two handsfull of cheery cherry toms for snacking on while the others cooked. Then I noticed the crabgrass in amongst the green beans.

This is where the train left the tracks and two hours later I finally made it back to the kitchen with my bucket laden with finds, having left behind me a small mountain of crabgrass, Johnson Grass and other ne'er do wells that had been unceremoniously jerked out by their spindly necks and tossed on the rubbish heap to await the fires of Autumn.

The morning glories were ripped out of everything within sight: beans, tomatoes, roses, squash, more roses, the white fence AND the peach tree. THE PEACH TREE!! Don't get me wrong, I love to look at morning glories, red, blue and every shade in between (there is quite a bit of hanky-panky that goes on among the morning glories, if you know what I mean, wink, wink), but they will take the place if one is not diligent in the pulling. While yanking their vines out from around the pepper plants I discovered a dozen forgotten yellow onions, which I scrounged out of the dirt and tossed in the pail with the tomatoes. I beat back the reaching arms of two tomato plants and stopped to play with the cat for a bit so he would stop biting my ankles.

On my way to the mulch pile I noticed the path the runs in front of the Oklahoma Roses was completely overgrown with a jumble of pig weed and Johnson Grass and had to stop and clean up that mess. I mulched that area first, then leaned over to the raised bed next to it and pulled out the JG and PW that was getting a foot-hold there; mulched that area as well. Went back for more mulch and took care of the peppers and green beans; went to get the hose to give everything, including myself, a nice long, cool drink; watered the Lantana and pulled the CG from there, along with some wandering mint. Then I dragged the hose all the way out to the road and set the sprinkler on the Retirement Tree. I remembered that the dill seemed to need cutting, if I intended to save any of the seed for myself (it is loaded with dill worms but I don't mind them, if they will give me a little for my Dill Bread).

On wandering in search of the nippers I realized that Ann and I had not picked up our tools from the gigantic weeding escapade of earlier in the week, so I did that; found the nippers, cut the dill, took the whole mess inside, strung up the peppers, draped B's pool over the sandbox so it wouldn't blow away. Took in a load of laundry off the line and hung up another one. When I came inside I rubbed off the dill seeds and noticed that there were some tomatoes still sitting in a pot on the cold stove waiting to be canned.

See what I mean about the circles? I did get many things accomplished, as one thing led to another, ad infinitum, and I am sure the tomatoes will end up in a can eventually or in goulash for lunch, one of the other.

1 comment:

emy_moody said...

Mom calls it a sequential vortex.