It's only May, fergodsake.
When we bought our tomato seedlings last month from the kindly Marin Master Gardeners, they warned me not to plant them until this month. Fine. Wait until the weather is cooperating.
But was I expecting edible 'maters this soon? Scary.
OK. I'm mad and I eat, but some of you aren't hearing my mad rants often enough.
Here's what I read in this morning's New York Times:
"Soaring Fuel Prices Take a Withering Toll on Truckers." Some guy in Georgia is contemplating selling off his fleet of trucks (if he even can) because the cost of diesel is too high for him to run a business.
"With Migrant Workers in Short Supply, a Farmer Looks to Machines." This fellow in New York cut down 25 acres of cherry trees because he couldn't depend on finding laborers to get them harvested. (You have to click and go see the picture. Shudder.)
"Contractors Are Kept Busy Maintaining Abandoned Homes." A team of men visits vacant, foreclosed-on houses in Florida to tweak them into some semblance of non-meth-lab, hopefully desirable condition.
These three stories are all being played out all over America! They ran in one national paper on the same day.
And that's just creepy. Because it makes me feel really bad about harvesting ripe tomatoes in my backyard already.
I mean, sure, I ate 'em. Good!
But. Global Warning.
(Yeah, well... I blame him for everything. He got his wish: Arma-geddit-on.)