Our garlic is in the ground, sewn for next year. Today was circled on the calendar as the date to plant and July 15th as the time to harvest. We’ll trim the scapes in the Spring of course. This our first time planting garlic so we asked around. Petra at Fruition recommends painting earlier, our neighbors painted theirs in December last year, old timers swear by October 15.
We had walked up Aman’s to pick up some more corn this morning. They’re getting it from a farm in Penfield and the ears we roasted on the grill last night were the best we have had all year. We close the street pool tomorrow so Peggi and I took our last swim after that. The temperature was in the seventies by then.
I had some crazy pandemic dreams last night. I found my in a maze of used junk shops, something like the old Peddler’s Village, and everywhere I turned were close range people without masks. I didn’t have one either. That may have been a reasult having visited my dentist in Webster, for a cleaning that I had put off for a few months, and having my uncovered mouth wide open. I was afraid to use the bathroom there and had to go so bad when I got out the only place I could think of was the playground at the top of street I used to live on. They had reoriented the baseball diamond but I found a cluster of trees in what used to be right field. Doug Click, a left-handed hitter, used to hit balls into the yard behind those trees. Wendy O. Williams, later of the Plasmatics, who was in our class, used lay out back in a bikini.