To succeed, jump as quickly at opportunities as you do at conclusions. – Benjamin Franklin
Broadway, Virginia; 37 degrees; 12:50 pm
The sky has been spitting rainy mist for the past couple of days—good for the soil but hard on the bones! I haven’t been out to check on the garden for a few days. Don’t suppose much has changed yet; we haven’t had enough sunshine to warm up the ground. Those little seeds are picky. Conditions have to be just right before they will poke their little tendrils out of the dirt.
I’ve been researching the difference between heirloom and hybrid tomatoes. I used to have an old paper towel covered in tomato seeds. An elderly lady gave them to me and said they were the best tomatoes on God’s green earth. Alas, I am not always a good steward of my possessions, and I mislaid the little paper square. I guess I’ll have to go with hybrids. I know some seed companies say they sell heirloom plants, but to my way of thinking, the seeds are not authentic unless they have been saved year after year by some grandma in a bonnet and calico apron.
I usually plant a large, beefy tomato such as Beefsteak or Big Beef – one of those bovine-like names. I also like to put in some Roma plants as well as they make for good sauce, juice and salsa. Edna wants me to enter the biggest tomato contest at the fair this year. I’m not much into competition unless I’m pretty sure I can win. I wish you could just wait and see how big the little fellows were growing before you put your name on the dotted line of the contest form. Unfortunately, they make you sign up long before you know the outcome of your crop. Maybe if I ever turn from a theoretical farmer to an actual farmer I will be brave enough to enter.
Edna is still fretting over Cousin Effie taking over the southern bedroom during seedling-growing time. I heard her talking to Hoyt Miller at the Farm Bureau the other day about the possibility of building a mini greenhouse behind her place. Some people sure take their gardening seriously. My biggest worries are the three Fat Kats that live in my house. They usually commandeer the sunniest spots and don’t take too kindly to little pots of plants lined up in their cozy corner. Farming is a never-ending battle with nature.
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