With apologies to Jerome Kern, a more appropriate title here to a great song would be "A Fine Bromance." Every morning for days now I've been hearing some soft sweet talking going on as I feed birds and free chickens. A rather confused tom turkey has nestled himself next to the front bumper of the truck and is cooing to his own reflection. I have named him Narcissus after the Greek god who fell in love with his own beauty. I wondered as I drove off to town yesterday if Narcissus pined for his true love while the truck was gone.
The house still needs work, but the bedding is washed and the larder is stocked for when the dudes show up, whenever that might be. At the store, one lone ear of corn lay in the bin. Of course, no "associate" (when did clerk become a bad word?) was around in the produce department at the time. Going on about my business, I went back to Produce later and finally snagged an "associate" who didn't work in that department but said she would check in back for me. And I waited. And waited. But it paid off when she appeared with another "associate" pushing a trolley with a load of fresh corn. I really wanted to show off our California sweetcorn to these easterners. Back home again, I'd no more unloaded the truck when my niece called. It's her husband and two grown sons who will be visiting. I mentioned that I'd bought corn to serve and, oh crum, she said they'd probably had their fill of corn because they live near several farms that raise a variety of sweetcorn and they'd been pigging out for weeks. Why do I have the feeling I'm just not going to win?