This is an oddity. I named it "Tomato Fetus Unborn or aborted." I can't tell if it is two or three tomatoes joined together due to crowding inside the wire support cage.
Whatever it is, I'm sure it will taste good once it ripens.
The largest tomato in this shot weighs right around two pounds. Look at the ruler. Five inches is a good estimate of its size in girth. I know, it's not totally round in shape but five inches is close enough for handgrenades.
The means of weighing it was not dependable either. I stepped on the scale, took note of my wieght, then picked up the tomato and weighed myself again immediately. It showed two pounds more that the original.
I picked all seven of these tomatoes from the same group setting. Not only are they great looking, they are also so delicious I couldn't believe it.
Don't spread this around but the variety is:
Giant Tree Tomato. If approached and asked about it from now on, I will deny any knowledge of the fact.
They arrived late in the tomato planting season; they came as seeds in tiny peatmoss cups and should not have sprouted, survived or grown to such size in so little time.
I WILL save some seeds from these beauties for next year and those resulting sets will be awarded the growing bed of honor, along side of the garage. I can't wait to see how much they will produce when in a good location with idealic soil and all the tender, loving care I can provide them. I expect to get a record crop or at least a record size tomato next year, so someone should alert the authorities to be expecting us.
This type of tomato is not red in color. It is more like a pomegranate, mauve or light purple when fully ripe.
Beautiful! Simply beautiful. A fruit to be proud about. And I AM!
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ADENDUM: or...eating crow to follow.
I'm just no good. I'm a hedious person. I have no right taking up space and using the resources this life provides.
I am however, not truly sorry about the way I acted or expressed myself in http://happypappy.vox.com/library/post/listen-or-read-and-learn-from-my-mistake.html
I told no lies in the telling of that story. I cannot find a satisfactory means of correcting any error or placating my nemesis without stirring up more trouble that I may be able to get out of. I still would not recommend anyone do what I did in that story. Regardless of how good the tomatoes turned out; it was like strolling through Hell just to gain access to the seeds. Even knowing what I know now, I still would not go through that experience again. I simply would avoid the process.
I had no idea that there was a “Science” of or to TRAFFIC but this documentary I watched on TV recently said there was and after viewing it I was convinced they were correct. That makes it official: Clarence agrees with one group of so called “experts.” The universe is once more, out of kilter. Here’s what this old guy knows for sure about traffic….He HATES it with a fervor that is rare. I’ve had a problem with road rage for many years now. For me, grid lock and thoughtless drivers or stop and go traffic anywhere transforms me into that raging cartoon character we’ve all seen on those public announcement type videos which featured our illness. OR, is it a disease? I’m dangerous when I get that way; dangerous to myself and others on the road with me. Isn’t that a terrible confession? I’m not proud of it. I simply have no control over it. I wonder if my insurance agent is aware of the fact? Probably not and it’s a good thing too. You know what my nightmare job would be? Being a professional driver; something like driving a Taxi or bus or long haul trucks or stretch limo. I’d rather be in Hell with my back broke! I’m tempted to begin a list of all the persons and situations they present which send me into a rage but I know the list would be lengthy, boring to some certain readers and of little use to anyone but those who are like me and would read my list and nod in agreement. It wouldn’t do anything to help the problem anyway but I just may feel a little better after getting that need to rant off my chest. Saying that…there is one NEW group of IDIOTS that needs to be pointed out. That’s all you people out there who can’t seem to drive without having a cell phone in your hand. You know what I saw last evening as I returned from taking videos back to the store? A DEPUTY SHERIFF IN HIS CRUISER WHO WAS DRIVING WHILE TALKING ON HIS CELL PHONE! When I see something like that….I know….there is no hope of this new cell phone problem ever getting any better.
When one looks at life, their view point is often, very narrow. A one person width perspective of the world around them. Since it is impossible for me to walk a mile in another man's shoes, I can only imagine what life must be like for others.
This particular morning, I contemplated the joys and pleasures, the hurts and sorrows of life. I noticed how the things which brought me pleasure have changed over the years. I was like any other child when it came to pleasure. Amusement Parks, toys, games, candy, good food, a warm bed to sleep in and lots of hugs and kisses from my Mother. I placed little value on friends and relationships or other matters of more mature importance. I was small, and I lived in a small world.
Rain was something to play in, overflowing gutters along the edge of the sidewalks were an opportunity to sail stick-boats. Thunder was a signal for Mom to plug-up her ears with her fingers and run screaming through the house, looking for someplace to hide and her actions were another chance for we children to snicker under our cupped hands. It was funny we thought, and it gave us reason to laugh.
In my childish eyes, a Butterfly was not a thing of grace and beauty, it was a curiosity. How did it ever get any place? It flaps those, large, flat wings straight up and down. Why didn't it simply stay in one place, moving up with the down stroke and down with the up stroke? Bugs, worms, spiders and snakes were objects to scare little girls and some other boys with, sending them screaming into their houses. That was a strange kind of pleasure.
It was fun to be able to do things which other kids just knew you shouldn't be able to do. I didn't know what the words DANGER or RISKY implied. Life was forever and death was not a subject children thought about. Sickness was something which kept you in the house and out of school for a few days. Recovery and release back into the outside world was heightened by the temporary confinement and the search for new ways to experience pleasure only stimulated my childish imagination.
A cut or scrape hurt alright, but man, Oh man! what an opportunity it was to show everyone how tough I was. I was able to overcome the pain and the need to cry when I found out how easy it was to impress others by not crying. The larger the wound, and the more it bled, the more others were impressed with the lack of tears. Physical pain was something you bore up under, but, emotional pain was where the real strength was called for.
I was almost fifty years old, and still, I could look back at the past and once again, know the pain brought about by some of my childhood experiences. The beatings I received at the hands of other boys were painful; painful physically and emotionally. A bloody nose or a black eye would heal over time, likewise a severe bruise or a deep laceration, but a crushed EGO and hurt pride stayed with you for many years to come. How could a grown man bring himself to explain the kind of pain he felt when he was not picked for one side or the other during a childhood, football game? To stand there, unwanted, either alone or along side of some other rejected soul, and watch as the rough and tumble game progressed.
How painful was the rejection of your first infatuation? Was it a crushing blow to your young heart? Did you feel that surely you would die as the result? I did....
Another boy would poke fun at and make jokes about my big ears, call me Howdy Doody, tell me how ugly I was and let me know in no uncertain terms how stupid I was, to even think that some pretty girl would want me as a boyfriend. I have beaten some handsome faces into bloody pulps and made them retract their statements in front of witnesses to help numb the pain I was feeling from the assault of their words. It was about as effective as pouring cold soda pop over a six inch gash in your leg. It felt good for a little while, then the pain returned. A fight a day, keeps the Bullies away, was my motto. It seemed I had a lot of pain which needed numbing.
There are many weapons which another can use to inflict pain. The most affective, and cruel one is LOVE. Love can lift a young heart to dizzying heights, like being caught up in an Eagle's talons, soaring high into the sky, only to be dropped. On the way down, love changes into a razor-sharp blade, which slashes and hacks until your heart and soul are bloody, ribbons. What remains of you doesn't even make a THUD when it hits bottom. It settles, silently, into one oozing, painful heap, and just lays there, while the earth soaks up your life force.
After living in this world for almost seventy years, a great many things have changed. My natural vision has diminished, but the way I perceive the world around me has expanded tremendously. Joy and pleasure are induced by the most simplistic events. A thought, or a remembered scene of nature can swell my being with boundless joy. A cool, evening breeze, after a sweltering day, or the fragrance of some unseen blossom, drifting on that same breeze can fill me with a sense of pleasure, and I know the need to express my thankfulness to someone. If you are fortunate enough to have been blessed with another who loves you, at a time like that, a simple touch is ecstasy, an emotional high which you wish you could maintain for a life time.
I see beauty all around me, and very little escapes my appreciative gaze. I regret, so very much, all the times in the past, when I looked and did not see such things. How could I have been so blind? This is one of life's greatest mysteries. What is it that causes one to have such clearness of vision? If I knew what it was for sure, I would make it into a pill and give it to every new-born baby, so they would miss nothing that this world has to offer in the way of joy and pleasure.
My Bible says, "Be ye transformed, by the renewing of your mind." If that is it, then what power gives us the ability to renew our minds? Where was that power during all the years of my youth? It's not as simple as "Positive thinking", for the transformation allows me to see the negative aspects of myself. My pride would not allow me to admit "Failure" in anything, yet I have been able to see my own failures. Calling them "Short-comings" doesn't alter the fact that I have failed at so much in my life.
I also have been successful in many ways. I know a sense of self-satisfaction as a result of successes, but it doesn't bring me joy, or pleasure. Self esteem only puffs up the EGO.
It is the very fact that I have known success in so many areas of my life which brings me to expect more of myself. It is the fact that I do possess this new-found vision, which allows me to see so clearly, to understand what I never understood before, which keeps me from accepting failure on my part, in any aspect of my life.
I cannot, and nay!, will not, settle for less than the best I am able to achieve with the abilities which I have been so blessed. I can be a better father, a better husband, a better neighbor, a better friend, a better Christian, a better citizen, a better person. Even should I fail at my attempts to improve in all these area, the fact that I was willing to try, brings me pleasure.
Thank You God, for I now believe that you have provided the power which fuels this new vision, which enables the renewing of my mind, which gives me the reason to be willing to try.
If you click on either of these photos you can view a larger, closeup image.
This is for all Scientists and other professionals whose job it is to worry about stuff like the state of health of various species of creatures on the Endangered List.
I understand that one or two thriving pockets of insects does not mean there is nothing to worry about; but it's a start anyway.
I've been feeding Hummingbirds for a few years now and enjoying the activity more than I can find the words to express. I don't mind all the work and focus needed to accomplish it successfully. Keeping the sugar solution fresh and sanitizing the feeders weekly doesn't seem like a chore when the little birds sit on the feeder hangers, twittering and tweeting with excitement while I systematically take away each feeder in turn and then return it, full and clean.
My reward is the acceptance of me being near the beautiful, little creatures as they interact with one another and enjoy the safety and abundance of our backyard. Their antics are so special, the aerial displays they put on, bring about in all of us that are watching them, a sense of wonder and amazement.
But...NOW there is competition between the birds and the bees and NO! it has nothing to do with sex education. The Bees swarm all my feeders for most of the day and the little birds grow weary of defending themselves from the constant Bee attacks as they try to find room to get in a few, quick sips; so they go elsewhere until late in the evening, after the Bees have returned to their colony for the day. At least they can get enough food to carry then through the night that way.
Here's my problem: I don't appreciate the Bees driving my little bird friends away; it angers me and I have threatened to take the feeders down, forcing the Bees to seek their nectar in the other places they once depended upon for sustenance. My main concern is, if I remove that food source for the Bees, is there a danger of bringing negative affects upon their future survival?
There may be no basis for my concerns, however, I do believe these Bees are a mutant species because they appear to be smaller in size than the Bee I remember from my past years as a child or teenager. Everyone knows that Bees love Clover. It was the most common green plant found in everyone's yard way back in the mid twentieth century. Today, WE who diligently tend our "yardens" apply chemical weed killers to our lawn, thereby essentially reducing the natural food sources for the common Honeybee. ARE WE that cause of reduction in the numbers of Bees we depend upon so much for the pollination of our staple food crops that certain top Scientists have been concerned about and warning us about so often today? I fear it might at least be contributing to the problem.
As I think about it, perhaps we humans need to start putting out plates, saucers and shallow bowls of sugar-water for our little insect assistants. Hummingbird feeders that have abnormally large feeding openings in them can become a death-trap for any number of species that depend upon nature's nectar as their normal food source. Large, open, shallow containers would allow limitless access to and no threat from drowning, and actually, Hummingbirds COULD feed from that type of food source also if they were so inclined.
What to do!? What to do!?
Does anyone out there have a suggestion or comment to add with my own?
It's a Yard Machine. No kidding; that's the brand. How appropriate.
It is replacing my old 8 hp Murray rider that I've had since 94. If my math is right, that's 15 years of service. It isn't through yet. I promised my daughter that she could have it as soon as I got this new one. I kept it in good shape; did all the right maintenance over the years. I replaced the front tires but the rear ones are the originals. I hope they last her a while, perhaps she will be able to afford a new one by then.
This new Yard Machine is a lot more machine than I am accustomed to. It's much bigger, has a 42 inch cut where my old Murray only had 30 inches. It's 17.5 hp, has seven forward speeds and goes through our 48 inch fence gates with an inch and a half to spare. That's a close fit and I've got to be careful. No more opening both gates and zooming around the entire yard, front to back; back to front, never giving the gate clearance a second thought.
Here's something that might help anyone out there who's considering buying a new riding mower. When you get it home, be sure to check and see if it has been filled with oil at the factory. This one had oil in it and even though the owner's manual informed me that such was the case, it turned out that it had too much oil in it and that's a NO-NO. Bad for new engines. The funny thing is, when I called Home Depot, where I had purchased it, they said they didn't put oil in it so I needed to call the manufacturer to complain. Complaining was not my main reason for wanting to talk to some responsible. What I was really interested in was doing what I could to prevent the same thing happening to another customer by having those responsible do a better job of filling engine oil more accurately.
This really irked me: when I finally did get to speak with someone at MTD, the company that manufactures The Yard Machine, the man I spoke with informed me that his company doesn't put oil in their machines; saying that even after I informed him that the owner's manual that came with it SAID THEY DO. Do you suppose that was a bald face lie and he was trying to do whatever he could to defend the good name of his employer? On the surface, it appears that it was a lie so I will believe that he did have some kind of motive or perhaps he just likes to tell lies. I've known that kind of person before. I'm not mentioning any names but you know who you are.
Not only did this purchase help to stimulate the economy but it also stimulated me in a Tim the Toolman kind of way. I felt this animalistic gutteral growl well up within me when I finally got the engine started. SO...the battery was dead when I got it. Who could have guessed that would happen? The smell of new rubber turns me on as much as that new car smell and this mower has plenty of new rubber smell. After the shed doors have been closed all night, I light to go out, slide the doors apart just enough to get my head in and take a large breath. WOW! What a treat.
I must give credit where credit is due now.......I have this new mower thanks to my sister-in-law. She is so generous. If she comes into an unexpected windfall, she likes to share it with those that have been charitable with her. Do the right thing when it is called for and somewhere down the line, you will be rewarded, if not in kind then when you get to Heaven and God points out all the good you did during your life time. Gail is going to be standing before God a long time, twisting and squirming around; feeling uncomfortable because of all the good things He had to say about her. I know it will happen....she's just that kind of person; having been and always will be that way. God will like that about her because He never changes either.
There are some who say that a “Real Community” does not exist anywhere on the Internet. I see that opinion as very narrow minded. I also understand how one’s point of view can be so focus oriented due to the unusual circumstances brought about by the evolution of said Internet.
Experience will teach one that they simply can’t be sure whom it is they are communicating with. The Internet is permeated with phonies. I don’t see why that fact, even if it is true, matters a great deal. Just because one can communicate with a flesh and blood person, face to face, shake their hand or look into their eyes while they are speaking, that fact doesn’t prevent someone from being phony. Most people are seldom what they seem on the surface. The majority of individuals live their lives hidden behind some kind of façade. They present to the world a mask, one that they have formulated over time for any number of reasons.
These masks are shaped and painted by human experiences. Many people have been living behind their masks for so long, even they don’t know who they really are. They have become the sum total of all the aspects of the phony image they project.
The one basic ingredient that is missing from the Internet is genuine TRUST. We have learned to take anything that someone communicates to us with a grain of salt. There is always a measure of doubt present between individuals even after they have been communicating for a considerable period of time. When you boil it down, the Internet is transforming all of us, making us paranoid and fearful of all others.
While I was looking up definitions for the word “community” I came across this: “Sharing, participation, and fellowship.”
Unless someone has invented a BS detector and is keeping it to themselves, I don’t believe there is any SURE means of being able to trust anyone we meet on the Internet with one hundred percent certainty. Even now, it is difficult for me to accept that someone would be capable of perpetrating some of the horrendous hoaxes that have taken place there. I’ve seen so much, I’ve become jaded to the point of not accepting a death bed confession when one is offered over the Internet.
Call me an eternal optimist, for I still have hopes of finding one of those rare gems, one who writes the truth, one who is willing to open their heart and share it’s true contents, one who is willing to participate in genuine fellowship. They are rare; that’s why they are gems, and I believe they actually do exist.
With some people I’ve run into on the Internet, it takes a sledgehammer to crack that shield of suspicion and doubt. Their skin is as thick as a Rhino’s hide. They have been duped so often they keep their heart and emotions inside a crack-proof safe constructed of six inch thick skepticism. I do wish it wasn’t so.
Some are like myself; they truly desire to make that spiritual connection with another human being. With every fiber of their being they want to touch and be touched by compassionate understanding, to know that their pain is felt and shared by another caring soul. Is it asking so much from another to want them to simply listen and not be thinking of some way to take advantage?
Some of the words I read out there FEEL real to me. I KNOW, the web is infested with some very good fiction writers and they may be taking me in. If that is the case, so be it. I hope I never discover the truth.
The Preacher said “On Saturday I saw my enemy. I named him and gained power over him. He is always with me. The enemy is not the aging of my children. Their growth is a good thing and will bring new joys along the way. I am the enemy. Sometimes I don't know what I have until it becomes what I had.”
That is where we parents reside; in the past, appreciating hindsight for its honest and truthful revelations.
Our children grow so quickly they leave us in their dust; our vision obscured and blurred by their progress. I’ve often wondered if that is why we are driven so to take all the pictures we can; while we can?
Our youngest child is 34-years-old now. How I cherished the hours I’ve spent in recounting the by-gone years since she matured and left home. What treasures she left with us.
I think back to one recent, Easter weekend when we gathered together in our home with our daughter and her roommate to enjoy the Easter Feast and one another’s company.
While we waited for the meal to be put on the table, our daughter, her roommate and I went to my computer room so she could catch-up on some of the writings I had posted in my on-line journal. I especially wanted her to read the words I wrote recently that I titled “When God Whispers.” She read aloud while Sue and I listened. Yes! I had written the words she was reading. They had been inspired by God’s Spirit and they were a blessing to me at the time of their composition. But now, with Kellie reading those same words, they sounded so fresh and new. I will admit; I wept openly as I listened.
Then, when the sister-in-law, Gail announced “Okay!” and it was time to eat, I asked Kellie to say the blessing over the meal. I was so moved by her prayer, I actually marveled over it. This child of ours, the fruit of our loins, spoke with such mature eloquence and wisdom, who would not have been impressed had they heard her pray?
I have so much to be thankful for but words fall short of expressing the joy I now know as I watch and listen to this child God gave us to raise. There was so many times I felt inadequate and inept as a parent. Many times I felt as if I had let God down in my responsibilities as guardian of this charge He had given over to our care. I’m so glad I was able to trust Him to help me over the rough spots.
He got more involved when she turned nineteen and she has matured quickly in her spiritual development under His guidance.
She will always be our little girl but I also know that now, she is His disciple and that He and we are well pleased in her.
As with The Preacher, I too am having visions of the future, not the past. I know what I had and I know what I have. I am content.
