The plants are up and visible
If I go outside, and I sit at a table, and I eat BBQ… does it qualify as a picnic? Have to think about this one. We went to our third Village Feast (their 11th) this afternoon. Good food, served hot, with lots of strangers around me. Sort of the story of my life. I’d learned during my two previous years, so I avoided the odd mashup of beans in strange spices. Ditto for the bread.
The potato plants are up and visible in the field. A sign that you don’t have to pamper pieces of spud, once you’ve buried them. New crop, eventually.
Sat in on Cross Country Checkup, from Wisconsin, this afternoon. I’d wondered why the various callers seemed so pro-US policies; now I know. However, when the state governor called in (or maybe he was a studio guest), and he rejected out of hand the crazed policies of his president, I felt reassured. Our milk farmers are safe for now.
The World Cup is over. No, I didn’t watch, but the news is unavoidable. And inevitable. Experience counts, even in soccer. France over Croatia. In an associated story, someone suggested holding the shootout before the game, to avoid subjecting millions of people watching adults run around in a prime example of Brownian motion. Can’t get my head around the appeal of “the world’s most popular game”. Didn’t enjoy it in high school, still don’t. Give me something with an outcome based on something other than luck, thank you very much.
And yes, I know; soccer isn’t simple. Really, I know (I don’t actually).
