Holy moly! Things are popping around here.
I’m growing an heirloom tomato called Taxi, because I wanted to.
Because it’s yellow. I’m partial to yellow.
Because it’s organic. I’m partial to organic.
Because it comes from Freeman Herbs in Beamsville, Ontario. I’m partial to Beamsville. (Noise Alert: This link opens up with a video link. Be prepared to hit the pause button fast!)
I’m growing this tomato in a container, and it is already in blossom. There are six tiny tomatoes on it. One blossom had twins! They may be conjoined. It’s hard to say. The blossom is kind of getting in the way of a good looky-loo. Dang blossom.
As for the Mother Hen who had so many chicks she didn’t know what to do; let’s just say those chicks are gaining some serious height. They might be future basketball chicks.
I’ve been toing and froing. It’s been the perfect weather for that. Mr. G, honey got the new gumwall tires on my bike and brake pads, etcetera, etceteRAH. I took Raleigh Girl out for her refurbished maiden voyage two days ago.
Here’s what I learned:
The ground is farther away than it used to be. Just sayin’.
There are only five gears. I used them ALL.
I never, ever thought I would say this, but my a$$ could use a little more padding. Or my seat could use a pillow topper.
I may have to resurrect the fanny pack for the keys/inhaler/ID/medical card/quarter-to-phone-home-in-case-of-total-rider-failure.
I still look like a dork in a helmet.
Moving right along.
The campanula have started to bloom.
And the fairy roses!
There’s something about a garden. I hie myself out first thing in the morning while I’m drinking that first glass of water or that first cup of decaffeine, still in the boxer pajama shorts, sporting garden shoes or rain boots. I’m too sexy for my garden, too sexy for…
I hie myself out and check growth, pluck dead blooms, and generally commune. Sometimes G-Pup shares my morning, but mostly she just falls back on her Golden bed and gives me the Get Real! look.
I’m starting the weekend with a peony festival. You?