Boy, has it been hot! and Dry. We've had to do the necessary watering to keep things alive. Containers have a particulary tough time, but we manage to get them some sustaining water every day. Seems like the rainmaking here could have carried over for the real stuff just a little. Zero precipitation on our road for August.
August is like that in the Ozarks; it seems AWFUL during the dry month, but this too shall pass. And, when it does, the rains will revive the grass; the grass will forgive and grow and Himself will be mowing at Thanksgiving again! When people make their home in the Ozarks, they just prepare for this and learn to appreciate the moment because it won't last long. If we hadn't had the infamous Easter FREEZE, this hot weather would be ripening more fruit and bringing on more flowers. As it is, the jasmine scented hostas are doing their best to carry on.
Recently, our daughter and grandson spent several days with us. We knew before the wheels stopped turning that the boy was planning to repeat some tractor work from the year before.
Last year, we had our flag changing tradition because Grandma's flag was getting pretty much the worse for wear. This year, we needed a new one again and we made the change, but we did ir faster because the burning Ozarks sun was melting our brains.
We knew when they were coming that we wanted to have the 5 yr old experience some gardening. He sort of filled containers when we had to pack water to the tomatoes. He opined over the ripeness of certain tomatoes and if we should pick them now or later. He helped lay out the fall garden and scatter papers on the rows for pre-mulch. Drug the old coaster wagon to the garden to load it with some dirt and rocks.
By far his favorite day was when Grandma forgot that she turned the sprinkler on to the small fall garden and created a great deal of mud. There are still 'dinosaur' tracks along the edge of the garden. There is nothing quite as fun as having to take the hose and wash off your feet after wallering along in the "quick-mud" that threathened to just drag you down.
My favorite time, I guess, was when his mom took up a shovel and turned some of a specific row. His excited exclamation was "Hey, Mom, You struck potatoes!." For sure, she did. We gathered them up and took them right to the house to cook for supper
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