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meanwhile, back in wisconsin…

my dear friend,

We did our own bit of traveling today. Ten miles west to the lovely city of Oconomowoc to attend their farmer’s market. Sitting on the shore of Lac La Belle and gazing at the old church buildings it almost felt like I, too, was in Europe. Except that the churches here are about 100 years old whereas you are visiting things that are thousands of years old, but whatever. Doesn’t that blow your mind? That you can actually visit buildings that have been in existence for millennia? It blows my mind and I’m not even there.

Onward. I bought entirely too many plants at the farmer’s market, but I couldn’t help myself. They are all so pretty and full of promise. And my cats ate all my tomato seedlings (and then threw them up). Except one. One lonely Cosmonaut Volkov tomato plant survived the onslaught. I like to grow things from seed because I am a sucker for plant names (just as I buy wine based on how pretty the label is). I love all things related to the Soviet space program. I named my chicken after Valentina Tereshkova. So naturally I would be drawn to a tomato named after a relatively obscure Russian cosmonaut (I say obscure because it’s not like it was named Cosmonaut Gagarin, for pete’s sake). In a similar vein, I got seeds for Hungarian Heart tomatoes because it can so easily be shortened to Hungry Heart which is a Bruce Springsteen song. Have I mentioned my deep, deep affection for Bruce? I adore him. Perhaps you have noticed his picture on my fridge. Ok, ok. The two pictures of him on my fridge. What was I talking about? Oh, yes. Plants. So, I bought lots of tomato plants at the market because my attempt at growing my own ended up in and then out of my cat’s stomach (I know I previously blamed both cats, but we all know it was Darwin who did it, I just feel bad blaming him for everything… even though 99.9999% of the cat crimes committed in this house are his fault). But, the farmer’s market tomatoes make me wonder why I bother trying to grow my own from seed. Please look closely at the picture below. On the right, one of the farmer’s market tomato plants. In the left bottom corner, my lone surviving cosmonaut tomato plant. Oh, can you not see it? Look closer. It is about 3 inches tall after two months of growing.

In total, I bought 7 tomato plants and 6 pepper plants. I don’t like peppers. But the cute old man selling them was too much to resist. And Jim likes them so I consider it a type of do-gooding. (Seriously? Spellcheck accepts do-gooding as a word?). Lastly, I got one eggplant. I have never, ever been able to grow an eggplant. From seed, from transplant, whatever. But every year I try. This year, I will succeed. All my hopes and dreams lie in this one plant. It is a lot of weight for one plant to shoulder. So good luck, young one, make me proud.


2 responses »

  1. Of course it was Darwin – even Thanu could tell you that. Such a pity he threw them up again…somehow that makes it more tragic.

    Peppers are very near the top of my list of favorite mouth-watering vegetables. Especially red ones that have been roasted. Last night we had some little spicy ones stuffed with cheese and soaked in olive oil. Highly delicious. Perhaps Jack Bishop will inspire you to give them a try.

    I will pray for your eggplant. 😉

    I might have been vaguely aware of your obsessions with Springsteen. But the Russian space program, huh? I learn more interesting things about you all the time. Pia should consider herself lucky that you didn’t chose her name? She could have been Brucella Gagarin.

  2. Pingback: fabulous fall « Domestic Wormhole

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