Evil Taunting

This is probably the reason I'm hell bound. I take entirely too much pleasure in taunting the Old Man.

When I was a young monkey, the Old Man had a prolific garden. Neighbors would not answer their doors when they spied him headed up the walk with a basket full of squash and 'maters and cukes. (However, I don't remember them ever turning down baskets of berries.) It got so bad that the Old Woman once paid a beau of mine to hurl the excess squashes over the side of the mountain.

But, as they age and have fewer mouths to feed, the garden is smaller and smaller.

So, now, part of my weekly phone conversation with the Old Woman is to update her on the progress of my garden. How, this week, I'll be picking my first peas and I have several fruits on my yellow tomato plant and have started to see wee small tomatoes on my beefsteak plant. And, the Old Woman will repeat, loudly, these updates while commenting that she hopes the Old Man is hearing this. Heh Heh.

On a related note, I am barely keeping ahead of my herbs. I've given away several bunches of cilantro and oregano and basil. Today, I made salsa out of self defense . . . just trying to keep the cilantro from going to seed too early in the season.