With the July 4th holiday falling on a Monday, the question of the week is what to do with a 3-day weekend?
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For much of my life there was no question. Firecracker day was spent in the hayfield. Life is simple when there are no options.
The only question was whether the last windrow got rolled before the evening’s first firecracker wick was lit. And the focus wasn’t nearly as much on whatever fireworks — rising high above town as we watched from afar — as on the homemade ice cream.
I submit that as the very best way to celebrate our country. It’s a wonderful feeling … showering clean after a full day’s work, eating as family together regardless of whether it’s sandwiches in the field or a real spread for supper, then remembering 1776 while eating ice cream amid all the bangs, booms and starbursts.
There’s something about a Black Cat that just keeps a guy young. Such memories never get old. I hope your family is making some.
July 4th also marked the end of the Great Tomato Race between my mother and my grandfather. Every growing season each vowed to be the first to put a fresh, luscious home-grown tomato on the table. They always shared the fruits of their labor, making us all the victors.
So, power tools and tomatoes are on my bucket list. Bear with me now and I’ll try to explain. One I want to use. The other I want to grow. I’ll let you take it from there.
My want list grows.
I want a power washer. But I’m having trouble convincing Liz on our need. Same thing goes for a nail gun. Ka pow! Pure, formidable, wieldy, strong — power tools. It’s patriotic, you know. We are the land of the free (as in free from manual labor) and home of the brave (as in trying to actually finish anything). She just looks at the price tags and mutters about my excuses for not getting on with it, using what I’ve got.
Women. They don’t understand being locked and loaded with a nail gun. It’s (almost) July 4th; I’m talkin’ America here.
My tomatoes don’t grow.
Could be the reason is I usually fail to plant them. It’s not my fault the only area for garden in our yard is junky fill dirt. I’d build a proper compost apparatus and construct elevated growing tables if I just had all the proper power tools. Really.
Lord knows every spring I have good intentions. There’s evidence, too. I kick around the wire tomato cages cluttering the garage throughout the rest of the year, and there’s insecticide powder boxed and ready next to the tin cans saved back to promote first growth.
Last year’s effort produced all vine, no fruit. The weeds now camouflage it a bit, but you can still see what we tried as a tomato patch (don’t look, Ethel, even the weeds don’t really look all that good).
These things only come into focus on July 4th though, when I have nothing of my own to put on the table. Thank goodness for Henry Cox, who brings over a portion of Jamesport’s bounty for our consumption on a regular basis to fill the void. Henry’s kind of a “Have tomatoes, will travel” sort of salesman.
Now, if I could get a new power drill things might change to where I really could grow my own. Tomatoes like water but they don’t want to sit in it. So to create the proper drainage for some tomato planters in containers on the deck like you see here in this magazine, I’ve got to drill holes. Lots of them.
Tomato plants need sunlight. That means more tree limbs to trim, and there’s a Troy-built power attachment on my want list. It’s so practical, with an add-on extension arm that promises to keep me off ladders for just a few more dollars.
I’ve been watchin’ …it must be a great tool since apparent demand never allows this power tool to go on sale (sale prices are nearly as important as 80% Off discount racks when it comes to Liz who’s so patriotic all year ‘round, putting every George Washington she can grasp in a permanent choke hold).
But right now, all my plans for power purchases fizzled when our ol’ chest freezer finally croaked. Together, we confronted a tough decision. After all (repeating her oft-repeated verse back onto her), what’s the need?
I reminded her we don’t do garden like all those years growing up on the farm. It was the perfect setup, with power purchase implications. I innocently asked: “Why do you want to replace the freezer?”
We agreed to buy the self-defroster model. Hooray! My hopes for more power tool buys spring eternal!
This weekend the kids and grandkids are comin’ over and we’re in dire need of fresh tomatoes for the hamburgers off the grill. I’m not quite sure how to maneuver the conversation past the menu and on to more power tools. This is important.
I’m not speaking out just for myself, my sons and grandsons. It’s bigger than just us. It’s anxiety common to all us garden-less men across America.
We’ve just got to have fresh home grown tomatoes by the Fourth; it’s a time-honored tradition. It’s red (ripe tomatoes), white (with embarrassment), and blue (missing power tools, a feeling oh so true!). What’s a blue, powerless fella to do?
……..Hen-reeeeeeeeeey!