it’s pouring rain here in the Pacific Northwest. But enjoy your sunshine. :-)

This is the primary season from hell.

Fun to think of you tilling the earth. Makes the world seem to cohere and make sense.

Can’t wait for you to start blogging again; not meant as a complaint.

Everyone out here on the lower west coast sends their regards.

..of the pie fight, CD.

Sunny in San Fran but there’s a brutally cold wind.

If it is over soon that means Obama will be our nominee, and probably lose to McCain (and then the real nightmare will begin). So I don’t share the hope that it is almost over (and I don’t think it will be, since I expect Hillary to win PA by more than 10%).

It’s been interesting to see the media critique destroyed, and the “progressive” brand turn into a license for misogyny. Ditto watching universal health care slip away as a goal for the party… No doubt an intensive round of gardening will put the first two events into perspective — as long as I don’t get sick, of course.

[x] Any (D) in the general. [ ] Any mullah-sucking billionaire-teabagging torture-loving pus-encrusted spawn of Cthulhu, bless his (R) heart.

—that’s how corrupted “progressive” has now become.

Lambert, do ya like asparagus? Takes some work to get a bed going, but it’ll be good for you to stretch and work the muscles now it’s spring. Once in it’s easy care, a little water the first year and after that the bed will almost take care of itself. You’ll be harvesting for 20 years or more from that initial effort.

I’ve put in several beds. Every damn time just as they get going I’ve had to move, but there is some pleasure in knowing others are enjoying fresh picked delight. I’d be happy to walk you through it, really not all that hard and so rewarding. Something for you to do in the dirt before the warmer weather comes.

Just like roses, eh?

[x] Any (D) in the general. [ ] Any mullah-sucking billionaire-teabagging torture-loving pus-encrusted spawn of Cthulhu, bless his (R) heart.

No clue what to make of your comment. The offer is a simple one, no hidden agenda, no strings attached. Suit yourself.

My mother intended to have a dozen or so plants, because I loved the stuff, and was away in the service.

So she put them where the late sun would be blocked by the house’s shade, and she could water them easily (she was past 65 by then, and carrying a five-gallon water can was no fun anymore). She got her dozen or so plants, and about six dozen more.

Something in that red Texas sand must’ve been agreeable to them; by the time she and my dad moved into town ten years later the patch covered a basketball half-court-size square, and it persisted for years after they moved into town, miles away, and the house sold and moved away as well.

Sh!# I can’t swear to, although I’m sure in the later years the rabbits left their share of pellets among the … jungle, because honestly I think Lucas filmed the speeder-bike chase in an asparagus-patch… Stuff gets shoulder-high and wrist-thick in a wet year, and goes blue-green and woody-trunked if it’s not cut back regularly and severely (yeah, like roses).

Trying to get this year’s garden started, staking out my compost pike, getting tomatoes and squash and peppers in the ground. Missed the chance to get the early start this year in February when I shoulda got lettuce and radishes and the first wave of beans in. But this is suburban ATL, with a longish growing season. If only the rains will come this year.

Bruce Dixon
www.blackagendareport.com

Last year, I did that at about this time, and I hit rock about six inches down…. Dug around, discovered this strange grey/white color. Turns out that the earth, six inches down, was still frozen.

[x] Any (D) in the general. [ ] Any mullah-sucking billionaire-teabagging torture-loving pus-encrusted spawn of Cthulhu, bless his (R) heart.