Well, it was uncomfortably warm and humid in Oxford, Mississippi, today. My cats, Piscín and Pangúr, looked like melted licorice on the concrete. That time of year in the Deep South, you know, Faulkner and others rambled on about it, our summers. They are HOT and HUMID. Not good, but there you go, what are you going to do about it? Best to lay in a supply of beer, wine, and selective uisge beatha (that's whiskey for you people out around Pontotoc)... and make the best of it.
The world is weird today isn't it? Greece, that wacko Mexican from Austin, TX, making 'kill the white man' films, terrorists in New York, Volcanoes in Iceland; lads and lassies, that is some seriously weird stuff going down.
This is Him, The Big Guy
But, my tomatoes, squash, and cucumbers are doing fine... the blasted deer have not found them yet that is. Love is still the most important thing in life... now all of you, go to church this Sunday, you owe it to the Big Guy. He's not half bad.
1 comment:
I don't think Faulkner rambled on about May. It is the next 3 or 4 months that are going to be the killers.
I found a blossom on my cucumber vine this morning, and the tomatoes are coming along just fine. Glad yours are doing well this year too.
Slan!
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