An Amateur Farmer

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My dear husband thinks of himself as a farmer, an amateur farmer is more like it or at best, he pretends to be one for a few minutes. If he had his way, he would be planting anything and everything he lands his hands on in terms of seed. Eat a mango, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat an avocado, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat a banana, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat an apple, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat a pineapple, let me have it so I can plant it. At rate he drives it sometimes, we would have a supermarket on a backyard but instead, we ended up having dead leaves camp ground from the avocado and mango trees and a seed “graveyard” village in my kitchen counter, until my dapper self decided that I had had enough one day, piled all and tucked them away in a box to later finding lifeless bodies, laying around, waiting for their burial procession. Yes, the seeds seem to have metamorphosed or crawled back to life on their own somehow.

The entertaining part of this, is not him planting or piling them up but the fact that there isn’t much land for his mini escapades and based on the picture below, how will he know which one is which? The space is limited in our neck of the hood. We live in a square box. Walk this way and you hit the wall, walk back that way and you hit the fence. So, in the spirit of marital bliss, I just blink my eyes and look up to the skies but then again, I don’t do well with the outside, lizards have me at hello, even though I love nature. Does it make any sense at all?

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Another impertinent factor blowing up our fuses, they really put me in a “joyful” mood every time I think about them, are possums. They took possession and roam around  the area as if they own it. He stopped planting tomatoes and shoved the idea of a state of the art garden down the pipe, hint hint wishful thinking, when we woke up one day and saw them on the ground, taking their last breathes and looking more like tomato paste then fruits, to later finding the perpetuator after recruiting Dick Tracy to hunt for whodunnit. It wasn’t an easy task but after careful and exhaustive investigation, we were led to the animal strolling quietly with its teeth out, unapologetically gunning for more. The nerve!

There are successes to report, however, in the midst of the insanity. We now have an avocado and a mango tree, this one  trying to introduce herself but is unable to because of my dear husband’s “knowledge” of the subject matter. Trust me, it is another interesting witty story, one for the books of “what were you thinking” which I leave for another day but I will give you this much, it has to do with space and big trees. So, without further ado, I present you one fruit that has withstand it all, the weather, possums, aunts, location, dead avocado and mango leaves, the pineapple. It is stunning and smells divine. Tasty? I don’t know, I haven’t tried it yet. It better be good.

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The little green tree standing tall behind the pineapple, moringa. We are on our way. Farmer’s market here we come!

Pic of the Day: Hello August!

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It is August or as we say in Portuguese, Agosto. You take the “a” out and you are left with “gosto” which is ” to like” and in certain situations, “adore”, “love”. Yes, love. I love and adore life. I love my family and friends. I love the craze in me. I love today, tomorrow, and anything and everything in between, and not to be undone, I love yesterday or as we say, past and its puzzles, tears and sweat. Bring on the popcorn August and what comes with it, the flowers, the stones and the blessings. I can see 2016 from afar when another set of resolutions are made and come August, you realize you are not even half way done. Bring on August and back to school madness or as my car would say, can I change into a drone pleaaase? Find me an air way, this traffic is horrendous. Bring on August and the end of the season sells and the shenanigans of Christmas. Hey little lady, I smell you. Now, you are talking my language. Happy August!

 

Pic of the Day: Strolling Miss Daisy

20150719_104410I found her last Sunday on my way to church, around the neighborhood, three streets over. She seemed to know where she was heading but all points bulletin signaled a lost pet or possibly a confused native to the lake that surrounds us. She did not strike me as bothered by the inquisitive strangers. She just wanted to walk, hurriedly, at  a snail pace rush. Caring she didn’t, marching she was unpretentiously.

Don’t know where she was going or coming from but she was strolling ahead, full throttle, zigzagging, quivering only to the onlookers while disregarding our prying eyes with amusement. I am sure she would have stepped over us if need be but instead, we let her majesty go by while still stalking her.

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I took enough pictures to remember her by and left Miss Daisy, I just gave her a name, with the ladies.  I hope she found home wherever it is.  – The End –