Tiller CPR

The tiller still isn't running. Pop-Pop says the gas tank and carbureator are full of rust, and the rust is gumming up the works. So he took the thing apart and cleaned it out. When I left him yesterday evening, he was trying to figure out how to get it back together.

On the gardening front, I transplanted some Great Northern Beans from the "skippy" ends of the rows to the gaps in the "less skippy" ends of the rows, ending up with two nicely-populated half-rows of beans. We'll see whether they can tolerate transplanting. I then planted the remaining two half-rows in butter peas. I also re-planted the "skips" in the pole beans. Yes, I should've done that three weeks ago, but I didn't have any seeds.

Nanny picked the first squash yesterday. It came from one of two plants that she bought, already sprouted and potted. The day I set the squash plants in the garden, I also planted some squash seeds. The plants that came from those seeds already have little squash on them. Thus, it appears that buying already-growing squash plants doesn't result in a plate of fried squash much faster than planting squash seeds does.

We'll be picking 4 ripe Juliette tomatoes this evening, assuming the squirrells didn't get them last night. Since they grew in Pop-Pop's dirt, we'll let him have the first taste. Assuming the tomatoes are still there, of course. Big assumption.

Last year, the squirrells vandalyzed the tomatoes something awful. When it first started happening, Pop-Pop offered to shoot any squirrells he caught in the act. I hated for him to do that. I mean, they're just trying to make a living like the rest of us, right? I didn't begrudge them a tomato or two.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they had eaten everything they picked. But I found not-quite-perfectly-ripe tomatoes lying between the rows. They had little claw-cuts on their sides, but they had not been bitten. It was as if the squirrells picked them, looked at them, said, "Nah, I can do better," and chunked them over their shoulders. Pop-Pop's mother said that she heard that squirrells eat tomatoes not so much because they are hungry as because they are thirsty, and that we should try setting out a pan of water for them. I secretly thought, "Puh-leeeeze," but I set out an ice cream bucket full of water between the garden and the woods. Didn't work. Finally, Pop-Pop said, "I'm g'on shoot 'im if I catch 'im."

Some few days later, Pop-Pop's friend, Charles, dropped by to visit. As they sat on the back porch talking, Charles (who is tongue-tied) pointed and said [Lord, forgive me for this], "Deah doze ye twuhwhl. He tame outta woods wight oveh deah." Pop-Pop went and got his gun. He propped it on the porch rail and waited. A minute later, the squirrell reappeared; he had a tomato in his mouth. Amazingly, he stopped at the edge of the garden, sat up on his hind legs, and began to eat the tomato. Pop-Pop drew a bead on him and fired. The tomato exploded. The squirrell ran for the cover. Pop-Pop shouted, "Damn!" Charles roared with laughter. "You tuddna done 'at if you'd twied!" He would periodically break into giggling fits for the rest of that visit, and for the rest of the summer would ask, "You chot any twuhwhls waitwy?"