Two creditors calling this morning = last straw

We have changed the greeting on our home answering machine. If you call us you will now hear this:

"You have reached the Archibald household, home to Dan, Leah, Harvey, and Rascal Archibald. If you are looking for Karl Vumbacca, this used to be his number but it's not anymore. Please do not leave a message for Karl Vumbacca; this is not his residence. Unfortunatly, have no information as to his wearabouts. If you'd like to leave a measage for Dan and Leah Archibald, you can do so at the tone. Thank you and have a great day."

And if you have any information as to the wearabouts of Karl Vumbacca (may or may not be the official spelling) please contact us so that we can inform the many people who want him to a) pay them back money or b) build them new cabinets.

Thank you!

yard waste

Out here in the suburbs, it's always good to be a landscaper. If any one time is busier than any other for those fine sons of the chemically-fertilized soil, however, it's the fall. Sprinkler systems to pump out, lawns to aerate, and bags and bags of leaves and grass clippings to haul away. Bags and bags. The leaves are one thing: I suppose if you don't have a little corner of woods to toss them in, it can be pretty tiresome finding a place to dispose of them all (though if you have enough lawn that you can't just chop and compost the whole batch, why not plant some trees for your own little corner of woods?!). The grass is another matter. Oh how it pains me to see all that vegetable matter, carefully tended and grown with so much applied nutrients and water, being hauled away as trash. Do you think I could maybe ask them to dump a little of it in my compost pile?

In unrelated farming news, I pulled up the last of the carrots today, because their leaves were all eaten by varmints and I didn't want to risk losing track of them. The carrot crop was wonderful beyond all my expectations, and I will be planting even more carrots next year. I might even try some full-size varieties, so I can go for length as well as girth.

Also, I ate a cherry tomato this evening. It tasted wonderful. I think it was the last one; all the others got moldy. I would have given Leah the privilege of consuming it, since this year I finally got her liking tomatoes, but I worried that it might have been past it's prime. If anyone was going to spoil the memory of a delicious summer of tomatoes by ending the season on a sour note, it was going to be me. That said, this afternoon I picked one more green Early Girl from the plant by the south-facing wall and under the heating vent, so maybe we can get that to ripen up and extend tomato season into November!