Cornyness Achieved

The forty-five day corn has finally run its course, much to the delight of our little farmer.  He finally got to pick the corn he just could not live without when we went to buy his gardening supplies in the early Spring.  He is so happy right now.  I'll cook his little ear of corn and we'll give the late bloomers these last three days to make more kernels before we leave.

The trip puts a kink in his garden experience, but he seems to be adjusting well to the realization that he won't be here when his garden comes to fruition.  da Daddy will have to put up the Romas, and da Grampa will come get the "Big Boy" tomatoes when they are ripe.  As for the basil, I will make one more pesto dinner and that will be that for our gardening.

This is the tomato temple...it's seven feet tall now, and mommy keeps lazily and disorganizedly (no, that's not a word, but vocabulary just isn't what it used to be) tying the vines up.  We don't pull suckers, or tend things like I would if we were earnestly going to make FOOD with this garden.  It was more of a thought form for da Creature.

Next year, we're definitely making FOOD (renting a tiller, making rows, the whole nine yards).  He is really rather good at all of this.  Normally, I just plant things and they die, and I resolve myself to that process.  His stuff seems to grow, almost effortlessly.  It's sort of not fair, if you ask me, but I like that he enjoys growing vegetables and herbs and eating them, so I can't complain too much about the disparity of our talents.

For now, though...there are big boys in the garden (of various sorts)  and a certain corny resolve to make light of not seeing the end of the story.   da Daddy and da Grampa will tend it for us while we're gone, and maybe there will still be tomatoes and basil enough for Mommy's Pasta Rustica when we get back from our adventure.

So for now, we will say goodbye and leave da Creature's Garden to our friend (who we've allowed to grow from a tiny little thing to this massive, sci-fi-inspiring monster of a leaf-clipper named "Munches"):

Just a reminder for our friend Munches:  you may enjoy the fruits of our labors while we are away, but please don't invite your friends and have parties while we're gone.  
Thanks, the mgmt.