Temperatures are finally climbing into the mid-90s after one of the coldest, most overcast, lingering springs on recollection. Summer crops are thirsting for sunshine. Thanks to wire hoops and plastic rowcovers I succeeded in bringing the first watermelons to the highly competitive Bloomington Saturday market, one of the biggest in the country, but the honor was diminished by a ten day stretch of overcast days with highs barely reaching 80, great weather for lettuce and broccoli but lousy for forming sugar in fruit. Also, my elderly neighbor (who grew up on the homestead my family purchased upon my son and me returning home from Boonville three years ago now) raised about a dozen guinea hens who discovered my pride and joy watermelons and hollowed out about thirty from the experimental row, rendering them striped diosaur eggshells out of which the reptiles had hatched. Fortunately the gentleman farmer/horticulturalist has been tending to peach, apple, pear, apricot, and nectarine trees as well as several varieties of grapes, making wine for decades, and is no longer able to drink much so his basement is lined with racks of vintages.
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