Okay, it was more confusing than I expected it to be ( I should have mentioned from the start that the Sage hasn’t had a birthday yet this year), and a few of you muddied the waters even more, mischievously. He was born in June 36, so was 36 when we married, 36 years ago on Sunday in May 73, and he’ll be 73 next month. It’s all a pleasant linking of numbers – well, so I think anyway, although numbers don’t appeal to everyone as they do to me. Also, 36 is a square number and I’m particularly fond of those. As I am of prime numbers.
I’ve been planting squash plants today. 40-something done, which is about one-third of the total. They cover the ground and are no trouble and although Al can get plenty of traditional Hallowe’en pumpkins and butternut squashes, other varieties are harder and more expensive to come by, and he can sell all I can grow. I just hope that people don’t use my lovely fruits only for decoration rather than eating.
I noticed, when moving the tomato plants that are due to be planted outdoors, that the first fruit has set. They are a bush variety that I haven’t grown before. It was nearly 7.30 before I finished working in the garden (I’d also been scything, which deeply impressed and rather scared the friends who called round) so it was decreed that fish and chips would be the order of the day. Ro was quite relieved, as he’d been steeling himself to eat bloaters.