Musings and Tomatoes
There are tomatoes on the bushes. They aren't very big, mind you, but they are there. The bees know about them. So do the birds but thankfully they've decided that they prefer the massive amounts of bird seed I continue splattering across the courtyard.
Tomatoes are all we have so far. Well, there are a few beans. Spindly little things, more like fingers than beans. Long, skeletal with black nails that reach out to grab your pant leg as you scuttle by in the dark. Who knew beans could be so creepy?
Over here, nothing is too creepy unless you count the fact that at night you can't see a thing in the dark corner of the walled garden. There used to be solar lights that lit up like little moons. Now they hang there...limp and lifeless but adding character in the daylight. A suggestion of festivity. We've even seen honey bees over here. The honey bee everyone says is disappearing. Whenever I see one I tell it to stay, tell all its friends, pack in as much pollen as it can handle. The idea of a world without honey bees is...well...let's not think about that today, shall we?
We have bell pepper plants and jalapeno pepper plants; carrots, cucumbers, and a pathetic little scrap of an eggplant that has just ever quite made it above two inches tall. The only ripe veg I see around here lately are on a collection of mugs I found at Goodwill for two bucks:
Tell me: if I drink Earl Grey from a tomato soup mug does it make it any healthier?