Beets or Beats?

Mountian High River

A row of beets, nicely spaced and weeded well is a lovely sight to see. A rhythmic beat in a good line of prose is a good ear thing to hear, and it stays with you like an ear worm--not a beet worm--at least, that's what my choir director said to me one day. When you hear that song in your head, "Rocky Mountain High" and it plays over and over, that's an ear worm. Beets, on the other hand, are red things that when sliced and pickled keep for years, or when made into Borscht are delicious beyond belief. My only problem with them, besides being not my favorite thing, is that they are so red. And they stain your fingers, your mouth, the dishes, the counter-top, etc.. That's why I decided to try white beets. But, like I said at the beginning, I'm a bad gardener. I left them there last fall to bolt and turn woody. A bolted beat is an lovely sight...just kidding.

Today I will plant beets for Barb and Mike, because they like them. There's nothing better than a community garden, even if you're the only one gardening. But I had another offer from Peggy , the neighbor who watered for me while I was gone, for a local gardener who wants space. So I think I'll follow through and see if her friend wants some garden space. I'm happy gardening about half of what I have. Mike just wants to paint landscapes, and his face did turn a little ashen when he recounted the story of the deer eating his green beans last year. Just doesn't got the desire for gardening now.

This a.m. I'm having breakfast with my daughter and grandbaby. We will eat at Harris Ave. Café—one of the best places in town for sausage and Americanos. Did I tell you that when I ordered Americano in Italy, they just smiled and said "Ah, American coffee," and sort of shook their heads. Like it was a sin or something.

After breakfast, I'm going to the garden. A report will follow.

Ciao!