We're back at Sulphur Creek after family beach-time--greeted by a lush fence beaded with gold and green gourds, saffron squash blossoms, and those bizarre yard-long pale green tromboncini squash. The zinnias and sunflowers are brilliant. Lulu and Ollie obviously did not suffer from neglect in our absence--we were met by pretty blase' versions of welcoming drool (Lulu) and frenetic tailwagging (Ollie).
My flower beds are vicious jungles of cardinal vine, castor beans, and mosquitoes, and we, along with every other farmer along the east coast, are suffering from tomato blight.
This apparently is a dramatic epidemic of late blight, a fungal disease, closely related to the organism that caused the Irish potato famine. (We're evaluating passage to Australia, especially if we don't get that public health insurance option.) It spreads rapidly in cool wet weather, and has decimated crops all over the Eastern United States. Reportedly, even Martha Stewart's garden has been attacked!
We still have quite a few tomatoes , but overall our harvest will be much less, and we are picking them a bit earlier.
Dinner was fettucine with a fabulous marinara sauce left in our fridge by Brook, and our own squash and canteloupe.
We're glad to be home, looking at shed-building, the Scottsboro barbecue--put it on your calendar for September 5-- and discussing general plans for fall crops and projects.
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