My wife told me to report for happy hour with the dog at a stranger's house as the sun was heading toward the horizon. The start time was delayed thus it was Cheyenne and I showed up on time and settled in to enjoy the view from the porch.
I don't do well in bars, the noise of many people talking all at once, the use of small talk, the televisions blaring and the sounds of the street pouring in like a blanket across all the rest of the noise make me cringe when I am in a crowd of people. I end up acting like someone hard of hearing, nodding smiling and wondering when will the torture end. Not in this case, we several of us admired the view together in respectfully hushed tones.
Dwight is a man who not only built his own home but he has also built a garden that has inspired awe in all who have seen it. I was overwhelmed by his fruits and vegetables, such that when he pulled out a giant watermelon and sliced it up announcing it was home grown all I could do was dig in.
The food kept coming out of the grill, Dwight, seen below and carefully observed by Nan pulled grilled vegetables out of his magician's hat, huge egg plants, acres of tomatoes and crisp boiled potatoes. This is a man who knows his soil.
A couple of visiting Californians were duly impressed, and people from the Golden State aren't easy to impress as I well remember after twenty years residence. 
Cheyenne naturally missed out on everything, she is such a wall flower when it comes to food we forgot she was there. 
Important communications were beamed in by use of Cathy's iPhone. God forbid we should make a move anywhere without the support and backup of random electrons.
Lucy and Carol set the world to rights in the yard while Satchel, Cheyenne's first friend ( the first dog she was friendly with after she came out of the pound) explored the boat. Cheyenne preferred to stay close to the food, and to me, who is an easy mark.
The easy conversation went on well into the night until we pried ourselves up, swept the table clean more or less and made our way to the cars. Dwight's mango trees are reproducing themselves at a pace we rank amateurs could only dream of. We wanted to know his secret.
"Plastics" Dwight whispered confidentially at the top of the stairs. At least that was what I thought he said but I may have been bemused. "Pro Mix" my wife asserted with confidence. I wonder if it is too late to apply it to our mango tree which this year has managed to produce just one single solitary fruit?
I don't do well in bars, the noise of many people talking all at once, the use of small talk, the televisions blaring and the sounds of the street pouring in like a blanket across all the rest of the noise make me cringe when I am in a crowd of people. I end up acting like someone hard of hearing, nodding smiling and wondering when will the torture end. Not in this case, we several of us admired the view together in respectfully hushed tones.Dwight is a man who not only built his own home but he has also built a garden that has inspired awe in all who have seen it. I was overwhelmed by his fruits and vegetables, such that when he pulled out a giant watermelon and sliced it up announcing it was home grown all I could do was dig in.The food kept coming out of the grill, Dwight, seen below and carefully observed by Nan pulled grilled vegetables out of his magician's hat, huge egg plants, acres of tomatoes and crisp boiled potatoes. This is a man who knows his soil.A couple of visiting Californians were duly impressed, and people from the Golden State aren't easy to impress as I well remember after twenty years residence. Cheyenne naturally missed out on everything, she is such a wall flower when it comes to food we forgot she was there. Important communications were beamed in by use of Cathy's iPhone. God forbid we should make a move anywhere without the support and backup of random electrons.Lucy and Carol set the world to rights in the yard while Satchel, Cheyenne's first friend ( the first dog she was friendly with after she came out of the pound) explored the boat. Cheyenne preferred to stay close to the food, and to me, who is an easy mark.The easy conversation went on well into the night until we pried ourselves up, swept the table clean more or less and made our way to the cars. Dwight's mango trees are reproducing themselves at a pace we rank amateurs could only dream of. We wanted to know his secret.
"Plastics" Dwight whispered confidentially at the top of the stairs. At least that was what I thought he said but I may have been bemused. "Pro Mix" my wife asserted with confidence. I wonder if it is too late to apply it to our mango tree which this year has managed to produce just one single solitary fruit?
2 comments:
Dear Sir:
Your aversion to bars that fall into the "sports" category is well founded. But there is nothing like a good local saloon, of which there are none in a 30 mile radius of West Chester, Pa. Though I would have fely right at home sitting on a verandah full of women.
Was the yellow watermelon sweet? I have tried the yellow variety (from supermatkets) and found them to be more ater than melon, or more color than sweet. But they may have gotten that way on their long trip from Chile.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Our Mango tree share's yours affinity for a solitary fruit. The winds and cold this year may have contributed to ours lack of fruit (I have seen it breaking the branches in previous years).
However, I am enjoying a tremendous amount of new growth, more so than any other year. So much, it makes me wonder if it is in a growth cycle and is not spending the time to create the fruit.
Since mine is an early producer, I wonder if yours is as well (mine is a Hewlett I think). If yours is a later producer, I would be interested if yours has a "growth spurt" soon.
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