A deciduous tree, a palm tree, and the Eiffel Tower.
If it makes no sense at all, it’s got to be Vegas, baby. I flew out there for the weekend to visit my friend Tammy, who was out there working at a convention, and while she attended her requisite meetings, I wandered the Strip, noticing, for the first time, how very, very sad the plant situation is around the casinos.
But I am not here to report on that (although I promise to weigh in on that situation soon). I am here to report that even though I was up most of the night under the will-sleep-when-dead philosophy of visiting Vegas, and even though my flight home was delayed for three hours due to mechanical difficulties on the plane, and even though I have to be at work at 7 a.m. today, I was so determined to see how the garden was doing when I got home that I took a flashlight and prowled around it in the dark.
Steve’s been away this week, too, and our upstairs neighbor had agreed to water the garden in our stead. From the looks of things, the rain that kicked in while I was in Chicago continued over the weekend, and I’m guessing he didn’t have to unfurl the hose a single time.
The tomatoes continue to pop forth with reckless abandon. The zucchini plant continues to grow in a bizarre manner. The pepper plants keep getting taller, although their flowers have yet to convert to actually baby peppers.
Besides the rain, it was blessedly cool in Iowa last night. When I stepped out of the front door of the airport, I wished my sweatshirt wasn’t buried in my bag. I boarded the plane this afternoon in 111-degree weather, and disembarked in time to catch the last glimmer of sunset glow on the horizon, just visible between the earth and a layer of clouds. Temps were in the high 60s. Raindrops spattered my car. Las Vegas felt like a surreal dream that happened in another country.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled broadcasts, where all the trees go with the landscape and the tomatoes aren’t long from edible.