An untended matter still matters.

I struggle to get over there like I mean to.

But I have to change my shoes… and remember what to bring… and convince myself to put on “somscream.”

Then a trip across the state (don’t laugh, it’s a big state) and it’s been ages.

The squash didn’t mind.

I keep telling myself to refresh my tomato pruning knowledge and actually prune them this year. (I likely won’t.)

Just like I ignored the row spacing instructions suggestions for the cowpeas.

Again, the weeds grew just as, if not more voraciously. I am not accustomed to this. It makes me miss my carefully-crafted, cautiously-curated, mostly weed-free gardens of yore.

Yet I remind myself to be grateful for the bountiful fruitful glorious loam that is this soil. The decades of organic gardening, tending, and watering – even if the Bermuda and torpedo and other such abhorrent invaders have yet to be kept at bay.

Anyone know the name of this invader?

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A study in black-eyed peas

Apparently I can choose when to pick these? Apparently, it’s up to me.

The green are a little under for my picking tastes. Too much webbing. Too little food for the effort lacking strings.

The tinged are trying. Almost there. String but not strongly so.

The robust red. The insistent burgundy. The no-confusing-you. Those are the ones, I think. Those are the beauts.

At least, until we cook them and study once more.