Cue Jaws music as the gardener moves in steadily and craftily for the kill, errr… harvest.
Tomato, that is. Flagrant exhibitionists, the tomatoes hide their immature, underage seedy green hearts beneath their every burgeoning, curvaceous fruit.
The first pod has been deployed and is growing at a rather non-alarming rate. Hopefully it won’t be ripe until I find a recipe for Facehugger Baba Ghannoush.
It’s the name of my new album. Or some stuff I found in the garden. Read on to uncover the shocking truth!
I imagine today was the first time the next-door neighbor walked out of his house to see a body sprawled across our backyard patio, head and hands hidden under giant squash leaves. He shrugged it off with aplomb and I’ve high hopes tomorrow will be business as usual.
“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet must-roses, and with eglantine.”
– William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Got a nice surprise from the garden this morning – lovely little purple bean flowers. Hope they taste as good as they look #EvilSnicker
“[There are] rhythms apparent to the eye and clear in their relations with one another. And these rhythms are at the very root of human activities. They resound in man by an organic inevitability, the same fine inevitability which causes the tracing out of the Golden Section by children, old men, savages and the learned.” -Le Corbusier
