Only about two hours before I sat down to type this, I went down the stairs and into my modest backyard garden, where my jalapeno plants had been busy.
I spent several minutes there, picking enough sun-ripened deep green fruit to fill both hands (and I have big Gil Hodges-style meathooks … as I said, my jalapeno plants had been busy.)
Then I marched my takings upstairs, mixed them with some vinegar and kosher salt, and made a tall jar of vaguely Tabascoid hot sauce that should enliven my food for some time to come if I can keep from sneaking spoonfuls between meals.
July 26, 2014.
It is at times like this that I feel sorry for people who don’t have space to garden, and mildly contemptuous of people who have land but don’t plant anything in it.
I do not deserve to stand on any gardening soapbox — my ‘penos seem to thrive on little more than sun, rain and benign neglect.
But really, it doesn’t take hours of back-breaking labor to grow just a few herbs, fruits or vegetables. They’ll add flavor to your table, while giving you a sense of pride and accomplishment beyond your actual effort.
My grandpa was a real gardener — much more committed and hard-working than I’ve ever been.
This week’s calendar entry finds him both investing time in his garden, and profiting from it.
(I assume “dust toms” means “apply some sort of fertilizer and/or insect repellent to one’s tomatoes.” I similarly assume “1 lb Beans” means “Picked 16 ounces of beans.”)
I bet those beans tasted good, if my grandma didn’t boil the hell out of them, or something similarly ill-advised.
And, I bet my grandpa took pride in harvesting and eating them.
Just like I’m going to savor each spoonful of homemade jalapeno sauce I ladle onto my ice-cream sundaes.
July 26, 1975. Mets win in extras; Yanks lose.
Hope Street 
Oh boy, you’ve brought back a memory of the big garden my mom kept (in Saskatchewan). Nothing exotic like your jalapenas, but her pickings kept us going from year to year. She worked so hard …
My grandparents didn’t rely on the garden to feed the family, but my grandpa took a lot of pride and interest in his.
Surprised you didn’t refer back to the previous blog with your grandfather holding a tomato in the midst of his tomato jungle. I think “Dust” more likely means applying a fine powder that repels bugs and other living things that like tomatoes as much as he did. I’m picturing some sort of apparatus you pumped that literally sprayed on a non-liquid dust.
Yeah, I should have linked back to that one. Bad grandson. (that was a much better entry than this one, too.)