I'm back at my desk job, but C. is (of course) gardening. Yesterday she planted carrots and beets, and transplanted another chunk of tomatoes into pots in the greenhouse. We've got over a hundred tomato plants, for sure. As usual, I'll sneak around and give some away at work and get the number down. How many plants do we need to feed two people all year? Even with delicious broiled tomato sandwiches for supper all August-September? I suppose we should always have extra in case of a poor tomato year.
Last year was a poor green-bean year. Haricot vert (ooo, aren't we fancy, with the French) are a staple around here, for people and for dogs. And for deer, last year anyway. White-tailed bouncing bastards.
Actually, we do not grow haricot vert. We grow good ol' 'Merican green or string beans, variety rattlesnake, a shorter, chunkier variety with purple splotches. The French version, predictably, is more elegant: taller, thinner and, like the werewolf of London, always beautifully dressed. Effete bastards, haricot vert.
I need to get off to work before I insult anyone else.