In anticipation of the first frost which was forecast last night, I spent a few hours yesterday, dismantling the tomato vines, picking off any fruits that looked tennis ball size or bigger. I have about ten pounds of greenies. These will be stored in a cool place wrapped in newspapers and allowed to ripen naturaly at their own pace. With any luck I will still have delicious ripe tomatoes for my salads until thanksgiving. The vines which have been so kind to me this season were mercilessly chopped-up and put onto the compost pile. Recycle Gold for next year.
When I got up this morning it was clear that it did not get cold enough last night to kill the annuals. Another case of weathermen trying to capture the attention of viewers by playing up the disastrous possibilities? Well, no matter. I got something done!
The only thing that died last night was the lingering hope that the Red Sox would indeed show up to play the Oaklands in game two. I am not surprised. They always choke; and it is good that they get it over quickly. The plausabilty of them winning the next three in a row is about as likely as Rush Limbaugh saying something nice about Ted Kennedy.
I refuse to watch any more games until the World Series starts. Not that it matters.
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