Munch, munch.

I've eaten so many blueberries, raspberries, peaches and apples of the last few weeks I could be a small woodland animal - a small woodland animal with access to  boneless skinless chicken breasts and store bought crab cakes, but still I'm pretty sure my ears are getting pointy and my eyes are shifting to the sides of my head.

Speaking of the diets of small woodland animals, I took a test poke into the remaining potato barrel and came up with a nice, albeit small spud. I have no idea if this is representative of all of whats there or if its just a baby. I did find it not to far from the top of the barrel and I read somewhere that that is where the younger spuds hang out. Maybe if I had dug further I would have come up with a monster. Or not. I'm not going to harvest these until at the very least, the end of the month or when the greenery finally gives up the ghost. Its still more green than yellow and it persists with the new growth. I have stopped watering it in hopes that it will take the hint and die all ready.  They were getting a little more dead every day but then it rained the other night and now they are looking all perky again.

The potaotos are just lucky that I have moved on to more sexy vegetables and spend less time with them. I was spending a lot of time with them. I was and am a helicopter farmer. I am being a huge pain the ass to the watermelons -  After I pour gallons and gallons of water over them I muck through the puddles looking under leaves and messing with suckers and molesting vines around and questioning buds sexual orientation.

I'm begin to wonder if I shouldn't be hand fertilizing the female blooms I find. There have been a a number of unfertilized blooms and every  little shriveled one of them has made me sad. I'm not sure that I wouldn't look sad tippy toeing around the garden with a tiny brush like some sort of horticultural fertility doctor. I'm not sure if the male flowers even want to become fathers and I am too scared to get into the whole conversation with the female blooms, fearing that I'll come off like some fascist right-to-lifer trying to  force them  to adopt my lifestyle over their wants and needs. I am  over thinking this.

I don't have any such fears though with the pumpkins. I am totally going to force parenthood on the pumpkins. I don't care about  their future dreams and goals, how they feel about  having children, their views on pumpkin over population -  I want pumpkins. Damn it.