Our late summer weather is dry, peaceful and calm. The contrast is surreal this morning, watching the dreadful news from Texas. I can't imagine our pretty little house and garden destroyed under an appalling flood. And not just 11 trillion gallons of rainwater, but sewage, snakes, creatures and every kind of urban filth.
Texas seems so far away. Why is that? I don't know anyone in Texas, other than an old acquaintance in Austin, and a lady in the panhandle who writes a blog I follow. I see the President is coming to visit y'all tomorrow. We feel your pain up here in the left-hand corner of the country. Honestly, we do. Natural disasters are equal opportunity. What goes around, eventually comes around.
I spent most of the weekend working in the garden. We got a generous (but not overwhelming) crop of plums this summer. There's plenty for eating and chutney, but not enough to trigger a neighborhood feeding frenzy, with people climbing on the fence or helping themselves with step ladders. Hey, I'm happy to share with friends and family, but really? I guess there's something irresistible about the sight of "free fruit."
The tree hasn't been pruned lately, so most of the plums are high up. At least the best ones. No worries, I used my handy-dandy-fruit-picker-on-a-pole.
(Not me, but will be soon.)
I can't pick plums without this song humming in my ear.
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