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| Corn garden on a rainy day |
"Flame thrower," I tell her.
Sarcasm and dull witted statements are the norm, therefore, her reply-
"Really?"
"Really," I say.
"I thought you were kidding because of the grass fire."
Lee Valley Tools has one in their garden catalog for April. She folds back the page for future reference. Later, I check the price of nozzle, hose and connector. Wow.
"spendy"
( paraphrasing the fetilizer sales man at the agri-center).
Since there are no dimension to the width of the flame on this weed killer, I conjure up this scene.
Tra-La-La-, Tra-La-La.Tra-La-La...
Gavrillo skipping down rows of onions killing weeds and making french onion soup at the same time.
Let's get practical. More birthday shoes.
The 46X30 foot plot (mid-left photo) is our corn garden. In the lower left hand side of the corn garden is Pucci Kitty's favorite poop spot. The sand pile below the white frame structure we use to dry onions is another of the Pooch's outhouses.It's no longer the granddaughter's sand pile.
Lee Valley sells a Cat Scat ( not the trade marked name in the catalog) ultra-sonic device to repel cats
(white cats, older cats, exotic breeds may not be affected).
"Spendy."
Dream on about peasant knives, wheel hoes, collapsible rain barrels,heat activated window openers and a nifty stainless steel spatula for $9.95 to replace the worn, inexpensive chrome plated one I use.
Dog and I journey to Johnson's One Stop in Seneca. The route follows the Kickapoo River up to and beyond Gays Mills. I watch for waterfowl in abundant wetlands while Mandy keeps an eye on an undulating, twisting road. The hills are broader, the fields larger and the countryside makes me want to plow deep furrows with a $200,000 John Deere tractor while listening to Bruce Springsteen and John Mellencamp. I'd toss in some Laurie Anderson to counteract eons of country music that lie fermenting beneath the topsoil, excluding, of course Willie Nelson, Hank Williams, Hank Williams Jr. and Patsy Cline. I hum Crazy and I Fall To Pieces as we pass Tavern Lane ( there's no tavern on Tavern Lane). A little way down the road we pass a one story white steel building that says, "Christians Who Worship Jesus In His Everlasting Glory But Only on Weekends" Wow. That's a really long moniker. I tsk tsk and cluck my tongue at names I see on businesses and buildings. "Ed's" & "Dicks" are two of my favorite names for grocery stores. Ed's Super Value always brings to mind tons of delicious fruit, select meat and fresh produce. "Dicks Grocery Store." It could only be surpassed by Ricky's Finer Foods.
Johnson's One Stop turns out to be an accurate description. Grocery store, hardware, lumber mill and agri-center combined. I'm looking for an organic (can be used up to the day of harvest) dust for Colorado potato beetles, squash bugs and an assortment of other leaf eating pests. The one pound containers are on sale. In the height of the season the local hardware stores sell it for twice the price. Grass seed, chicken leg quarters, Cannelini bean seed, country ribs, butter and twine complete the list. I wait in a long line at two register lanes squeezed into the last aisle between a bank of freezers on the right and canned goods at left wondering why the owner doesn't put loss-leader specials and impulse purchases on the shelves instead of canned goods. The lady in front of me has eighteen pounds of butter and a leaning Tower of Pisa stack of frozen pizzas. The old gent at my left is grinning and carrying a cardboard case of country ribs.
"I bet they're counting the dollar bills flying through, " he says to me. The farmer to the left of Pizza lady is wearing train engineer, seersucker bibs that are badly stained in the butt portion. "Need to wipe off that tractor seat Bub," I muse.He could be a stand-in for Grandpa in The Grapes of Wrath. When he munches his free popcorn his nose touches his chin.
As I load my purchases in the car, a grocery bagger woman comes rushing out to snatch the cart I'd pushed across highway 27. Fearful that I'd load the cart into the truck of my Chevy, she grins as I thank her for saving me the walk across Main Street. I gaze at the many wonders of Southwest Wisconsin on the way back.
Two stately Victorian bed and breakfasts sit dangerously close to the river. Highwater marks many of the houses in the two block long stretch of downtown Gays Mills. One house is on steel beams ready for relocating which forecasts the creation of another ghost town like the original town of Soldiers Grove. The Mt.Sterling goat cheese factory, plywood aliens waving from Crazy Frank's, Digger Don, "Go Westby Girl's", Thurfane (whatizzit?), "We smoke anything" at the meat locker.
Blackbird Farm
Organically Grown
Vegetables
I swat two mosquitoes. When I mention it to my wife, she says, Not already." "Yes, already."
2 comments:
//( there's no tavern on Tavern Lane).//
now that is a crime.... and out and out crime!! Hey, the pic's look good. and I have known folks who have used a butane torch on weeds... actually kinda fun.... if there is a tavern to stop at first.
The real crime is that it's taken me three days to get to the computer to comment. There's a nice pub in Soldier's Grove that makes wood fired pizza with a side of garlic and chili peppers slathered in Olive Oyl. Olive will come to your table if you order one. It's called Country Gardens and has an attached motel if you're in your cups and can't drive.
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