Here on the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge, right in that magical spot where the mountains run east to west for a while and form a sheltered cove, Mount Pleasant rules the horizon. Where African slaves once cleared the land, pulled stumps and planted tobacco, today, Fundamentalist Christians with Rebel Flag license plates and Jesus Fish stickers on their SUV’s shake their fists in the direction of Washington DC and that Muslim traitor who “thinks” he is a real President. It is tiresome, but, it’s true.
Be that as it may, it hit 80 degrees today and when it is Springtime in Dixie a man’s thoughts turn to “Maters” and such. The land must be prepared. Varieties of veg and bean must be selected and amendments must be added to the soil to insure a bountiful crop.
I made myself a promise after reading “Tomatoland” by Barry Estabrook that I would never eat another tomato I didn’t grow myself. If you don’t want to end up like me…. Don’t read the book! As one reviewer put it… “Corruption, deception, slavery, chemical and biological warfare, courtroom dramas, undercover sting operations and murder: Tomatoland is not your typical book on fruit.” The detailed descriptions of the horrible birth defects and hideous malformations visited upon the children of the immigrant field workers simply because their pregnant mothers washed their husbands work clothes WILL make you sick. The knowledge that the permanently disabled newborns move directly into the Medicaid system, for the remainder of their wretched lives, is but one of the added costs passed along to the consumer by the Corporate Mega-Farms. Read the book and “out of sight” will never again be… “out of mind”.
You gotta grow your own folks. They taste all the better without all the bad karma, pesticides and herbicides.