Competitive Tomatoes? Really? in Everyday Ramblings

This is my favorite picture from the last few days. The clematis is in Mrs. Sherlock’s Garden. (Spellcheck insists on capitalizing garden, which makes me laugh as if her garden was an amusement park or something, which in a way, I suppose it is).

I took some pictures yesterday of the first marigold flowers in my own plot, but they so did not do the actual flowers justice. They are this dark almost red orange and on one plant the petals are etched in this glorious line of yellow. There is this jewel tone royal quality to them. The fact that I grew these from seed is amazing to me. The seeds were Burpee’s Best Mixed Colors and I got them at the grocery for less than $2.00.

Yesterday morning when I was weeding a common area a woman said hello and asked me about the garden and how it worked. She only had a few teeth and clearly has had or has a drug problem. She was self-deprecating and said she could never grow anything, and I reassured her that this was my first rodeo and if I could do it so could she. I hope I never take my delight in all this for granted.

The other day when I was in the grocery I saw a middle-aged man, (maybe a little past that), with a cart with a few things in it, but right in the middle was a tomato plant.

I have been observing lately that competitive tomato growing seems to be a thing among certain relatively privileged men. I was listening to a podcast (Joe Gardener) promoting an online course called “Growing Epic Tomatoes”.

I was like, oh that is interesting, but it is $397.00!!!

Is tomato growing now like a sport? Where you must have all the right equipment and amendments and seeds to keep up and be in the club.

One of the things I love about the plot is how everything smells, the basil, the nasturtiums and yes, the tomatoes. I heard this thing yesterday where they think part of how homing pigeons orient themselves and find their way back to their nest or home areas is by smell. They develop these smell profiles of information coming in on the wind as they are developing and they have an internal compass so they (unlike many of us) know where, say, north is.

You hear these stories about how lost dogs and cats find their way home and no one knows how they do it. I bet this is part of the answer.

Diego was over the top clingy this morning. I wasn’t getting anything done. Finally, I had to take a time out and put him in the bedroom and it was clear when I went in a bit later that he had not been feeling well. We are in a every ten days or so cycle now. Which is a lot better than last year.

It is supposed to be 111˚F here on Sunday. That is just crazy. I left to walk to the grocery this morning at 7:20 AM. There were only two patches of bright sun on the hour long walk as there are mostly trees on the parkway. There were several women, (mostly) out exercising early. 111 is deadly heat. We are all shifting our schedules to deal with this unfolding intense weather, those of us who can.

We have maybe a week, maybe two, before all the grasses and the wildflowers dry out and die off. We are not talking about fires although the specter of them is ever-present.

They picked up the specialty recycling box this morning. Every week they pick up plastic film, lightbulbs, batteries, and clothing. Then there is an extra item bi-weekly. The specialty pickup item for today was metal tops for jars and bottles. I hadn’t saved any because until now I hadn’t been able to recycle them. The specialty pickup item for two weeks from today is fleece blankets. It was so great to safely get rid of all the batteries I had collected. I used to recycle them at work.

And so much of the food packaging can go too in that plastic film category. They text you and you opt in for a pickup. They tell you when then have switched out your box for a new one. You can add on a Styrofoam or a clear plastic clamshell pickup. You don’t need to take the labels off! They make new clamshells out of the old ones. It is a new company, and they are trying hard. Win, win.

Our Covid cases are finally averaging less than 300 a day, and in my county, deaths are becoming rare. I am trying to train myself not to step out six feet on the sidewalk or into the street when I pass someone without a mask.

It is going to take awhile to train this old dog how to be in the world again.

Last updated June 24, 2021