Everything is big. Big babies, big weeds. The babies need to go into the ground and the weeds need to come out.
(Notice all the noodly worm things everywhere. Those are from the pecan tree that overhangs the garden.)
But it’s just too damn hot to do anything and I spent Mother’s Day napping and reading and eating and chatting with the family. The only gardening that happened was planting more seeds (blush).
But they were flower seeds my kids put in my new hand painted mother’s day pots, okay?! (And some black pepper seeds that my dad sent me, wanting a second person to try because he thinks it’s his karma preventing them from germinating for him because my brother is presently not speaking to my father and my brother is the one who introduced him to those peppers. But really the seeds smell musty and look dark.)
I’ve known that my Black Krim tomatoes were getting out of control. They are way past due for tying to their stakes. As a matter of fact, I’ve only done it once. And so I had this:
That was the worst example. When I was finished staking and cutting, I ended up with these:
And now I know in my heart the origin of Fried Green Tomatoes:
Once upon a time there was a lady who had a homesteading dream and a full time job with a long commute. Though she had a family, they weren’t much into gardening and so she had to try and keep up with the maintenance on her own. She couldn’t — and so along with a garden full of weeds, pests, and southern blight, she also ended up with a lovely bundle of green heirlooms that wouldn’t likely ripen. So she fried them and had to eat them all because her family hated them. Too bad, they can eat canned ravioli. The end.