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Author: theMan
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Punctuality is the Virtue of the Bored
Writer Evelyn Waugh is said to have said, “Punctuality is the virtue of the bored.” I chuckled when I read that in a BBC article about the punctuality of the Swiss. Many of my ancestors were Swiss. When I visited the farm in the Jura mountains where one of my great-great-grandfathers once lived, I couldn’t fathom why he decided to leave. The area was a paradise of forests and green pastures. It turns out that he left because a tavern opened a mile or so away from his farm and he did not want his children to grow up so close to drinking and dancing. I don’t think his decision to move all the way to rural Ohio was the best choice, but who am I to judge. His action didn’t work as there is beer in my fridge and wine on my shelves.
The need to be punctual fails me when I’m at my desk in the garden. I’m never bored, so maybe I’ll never be good at being punctual.
The dogs are never bored either. They always find something meaningful to do, like trying to rip the weaving off a lawn chair. I give them the benefit of the doubt that they are just wanting to take it apart to see how it is made. Dogs are curious that way, you know.
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What Do Potato Flowers Dream Of?
She’s a shy one. This little Turken cross chick is growing up fast. She’s got a very protective mother. Get too close and she will attack! To get a better photo, I’ll need to get the camera with a zoom so I can stand a long way back when I snap the shutter.
The Korean red garlic are bagged and set aside for planting in the fall. Next year, I should have plenty of them to sell all summer.
Out in the garden to gather ingredients for supper, I caught the potato flowers going to sleep. At the end of a long, summer day, potato flowers close their eyes and slumber until dawn. What do they dream of when the stars come out? Do any peak to see what the night sky looks like?
Supper’s are best when they are fresh out of the garden. New potatoes, mustard greens, and beans, we’ll eat well tonight. The only thing missing is a salmon stream meandering by the garden.
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Market Morning
The baby kale sparkled with dew this morning. And the potato blossoms were smiling when I went out to the garden to gather produce for today’s Bow Little Market. Their anthers are such a brilliant yellow.
I’m studying Rebsie Fairholm’s book, “The Lost Art of Potato Breeding”. The nature of potato genetics means that if you grow potatoes from seeds instead of tubers which is how most people grow potatoes, you have no idea what kind of potatoes you’ll get from those seeds. From a single potato plant, you can get a variety of potatoes. As a result, the chances of ending up with potato varieties no one else has, is what makes potato breeding a worthwhile endeavor.
Digging potatoes is a highlight of summer and fall. You can do it a million times and still be awed when your hand digs into the earth and uncovers a potato. It’s awesome how these plants use solar power to create sugars and starches out of water and carbon dioxide, and store this power in the ground. And they don’t just make one kind of potato, they make hundreds of varieties of colorful potatoes.
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No Boredom Here
So much happens in one day, it’s hard to keep track. Pepper has moved to laying her eggs in a nest in the chicken yard instead of in the nests near the garden.
The eggplants are coming along. In a week or two, I should have some ready for Bow Little Market. Ena 枝那 is exhausted watching me weeding.
The Roma tomatoes are turning red. Hopefully, enough will be red to have some for Thursday, the 21st’s Bow Little Market. And why is Sven resting in a nest in the middle of the afternoon?
Now both of the dogs are exhausted from watching me weed. I should be more tired than them. Some days I think I would rather be a dog, as long as I had an owner like me.
Old Billy enjoys a quiet moment with one of the older hens, Daisy. While Miasa-Hime 美朝姫 has taken to laying eggs in the nests near the garden where Pepper used to lay eggs.
And King Richard and his hens are going through what is left of the last compost pile. Just a few of thing things that happened today. I don’t have pictures of the bald eagle which flew low overhead and flew off when I yelled at it, nor pictures of the great blue heron who flew in to go fishing at the pond. There is never a boring moment here.
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Eat the Weeds
Eat the weeds! It works when onions are the weeds. Last fall, I let some onions do their thing, go to seed, and let them fall where they may. I ended up with a bed thick with onions. I thinned them out today, gathering a bowl of baby onions for cooking.
