It was a mild day, sunless, and the clouds were little cottonballs spread out on a table. We transplanted tomatoes today, Vesuvio, Principe Borghese, Duro. Their roots smell of cucumbers. We bury their radish-pink stems almost all the way into the earth, because they will form roots all along its length. The work flew by, Miya and I drifting in and out of conversation, a hen squawking its pride at its new egg. A yellow spider idly crossed the table a couple of times. Later Jill, Fred’s partner, came by, and helped out.
The hoophouse has been transformed since I had been here last, as are the fields. The mustard is flowering, the bed of mint we had weeded is leafing, and the shallots are looking good. Half of the hoophouse is covered in strawberry, tomato, and pepper transplants, with mature examples of each plant heading each group of flats. The other half of the hoophouse will also soon be full of transplants.
Fred’s partner Jill got a new rooster, and it looks like Mr. T, or like some heavy metal dude from the 80s. It’s half Japanese silky, and half Golden Phoenix. It’s currently getting picked on in the coop full of hens, as hens are likely to do. Fred wanted a nice rooster this time, one that wouldn’t attack his daughter, and Japanese silkies tend to be mellow. It certainly looked a bit fancy in a goofy way. They got it for free off of Craigslist. I’m not sure what they are going to name him, but my suggestion is Braveheart.