Days that normally would represent a highlight of any year for me have become a painful passage in defeat. Normally, where I live, this is the time of year the home-grown tomatoes first ripen. It has been that way since I was a boy, where around our house the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence took a distant second in importance to the first tomatoes from my parents’ garden. Now, after consecutive seasons of what could be described charitably as “limited success” in my own tomato patch, I have a total flop on my hands. “Wilt” would be a better word. One by one, over the past month, my tomato plants have drooped and died. Water did not help. Fertilizers did not help. Threats did not help. There is a dirty reality that no one in the south likes to voice aloud, but it is muttered among the hardcore gardeners. Tomatoes, once the crop of everyman, are becoming hard to grow. For the first time ever, I am dependent on the tomatoes of strangers.
A wily shopper
by Jimmy Johnson
…and we’re back!
After a brief break, I’m back behind the keyboard. I’ve already put in a few early-morning hours working on this site. Those are my ...
One Step Forward
There are two areas where I need to concentrate now, aside from the areas where I don’t yet know I need to concentrate. First, ...
The Only Constant
I cannot stress enough that what you’re seeing here is subject to change. When you come to this website these days, you are stepping ...
Hey there hi there…
ho there! We’re as happy as can be! I’m guessing an uncommonly large percentage of visitors to this website view it on a desktop ...
Dinner by Candlelight
It isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Well, I’ll be John Brown. This blog was revived just three days ago, and here ...
By Special Request
We don’t even have the mouse droppings swept out of the corners yet. The last thing I want to do is bring up politics, ...
51 responses to “A wily shopper”