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One Simple Task

August 12, 2012
tags:

Various heirloom tomato cultivars

Various heirloom tomatos

Funny How 1 Simple Task Turns Into Many

(Sunday, A Day of Rest)

So Milton and Princess #1 return home after church and a nice breakfast in town, and Milton is looking forward to a relaxing day spent on the hammock.  What with Wifey and the two younger chillens gone away til Monday evening, and Princess Numero Uno having plans in the big city, there couldn’t really be anything that would get in the way of hammock time, could there?

Naw.  Not really.

But that nagging thought of the neighbor lady, calling last night to inquire if we wanted to share in her bounty of freshly come-on sweet corn, and her casually remarking that the tamaters were really comin’ on strong, that thought just kept on bouncin’ around in Milton’s spozed-to-be-relaxing head.    Really.    Comin’.          On.                                  Strong.

To-Ma-ters.  Tamaters.  Tomatoes.

Coming on strong.

Take a Little Peek-See

So Old Uncle Milton saunters on out to the north garden, and sure as shootin, he sees red on the tomater buses.  Some here, some there.   A LOT down under there.

He walks to the garage and gets himself a bushel basket, and heads back out to the garden, and starts picking.  And it wasn’t too long before he gets a mushy tomater.  So he walks back to the garage to get a 5 gallon bucket, to put the mushy ones in.  You see, the chickens just love those mushy tomatoes.  And while Milton is pickin, he starts reminiscing about how Wifey was telling him during tomato plantin season, that he ought to be puttin those plants further apart, and not so many inside of each of the cages.

Yup, Milton was recalling that, as he crawled on his hands and knees, trying to get a peek-see inside the JUNGLE the the 2012 tomato patch had become.  And after collecting a bushel of the “good ones”, he kept on recalling that there were a bunch of cucumbers laying over there in the cucumber row that he had picked yesterday, and left laying there.  For the chickens.  Those big, fat, yellow cukes that were just too unsightly to actually serve to anyone.  So he sauntered over there, and collected those.

And those volunteers?   Oh, yeah.  Remember those cute little tomato volunteers that didn’t get weeded out of the sweet corn?  Oh, yeah,  those volunteers,  ’cause, what the heck, they probably won’t amount to nuthin’, and they’re free, and maybe they will produce something, and ayup they sure did.  Of course just getting to them is about another manner, since they are sprawled all over in the rows and between;  and oh, yeah, there’s a bunch of them butternut squashes popping up all over in there too, so don’t step on them, as you wriggle in to get the *extra* tomatoes.

And Who Ever Saw Ragweed This TALL???

And while Milton was in the Corn, cum Tomato and Squash Jungle, how is it possible that those kids could have possibly been weeding one row per day, per kid and still have ragweed that is two feet over his head?  Only one way that old uncle milton can figger and it involves LYIN’.  Better to leave that sleeping dog lie.  But he couldn’t just let that 8′ tall ragweed stay there, now could he?  Wifey would have an allergy attack to rival War of the Worlds when all that pollen got loose.  So he commenced to pulling the ragweed.  AND the lambsquarters.  Giant.  Magnum Lambsquarters.  Ya just can’t leave that stuff growing, now can ya?   Then collecting the rest of the volunteer tomatoes.  And the mushy ones for the chickens.

Then Old Uncle Milton starts to thinkng that the weather forecast called for it to be overcast, and COOL.   So why is he dripping with sweat, and stinkin so terribly?  Dang it all.  Lugging those buckets of chicken feed and carrying baskets of tomatoes can do that to a man.  And lookie over there, between the pine tree and the ornamental pear- in the shade, is that empty hammock.  EMPTY.   And someone now has to run the *Squeezo-Strainer* and turn all of these tomatoes into sauce.  And the only ones home are Milton, and the dogs.

Not that you will hear Uncle Milton complain.  No sir.  Those tomatoes are a blessing from above.

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