1. Ruth
    Ruth June 11, 2014 at 10:06 am | | Reply

    Ah, Fabulous AGAIN!!! Please get these commentaries on VPR. Tell them I will give them a donation if they play your stuff!!!


  2. terry allen
    terry allen June 11, 2014 at 10:16 pm | | Reply

    i had podcasts playing last night as i was falling asleep and had mostly dozed off, when this came on and instead of the usual soporific vpr–better than ambien–i became alert. i hadn’t heard the podcast title and since it was abt vt, assumed it was from vpr. jezem, i thought, when did vpr commentaries become less than pathologically earnest. this one was actually witty, smart and fun. i was pleased and impressed. then as the piece ended, and realized it was rumblestrip, and i thought, well, that figures. nice piece.

  3. Dick
    Dick June 11, 2014 at 10:49 pm | | Reply

    The 17 Dollar Tomato story is great.
    He may understate the real cost however.
    We bought “Upside Down” bags and movable, blue rightside up, felt ones and together, I think they netted us no more than one, oddly shaped, inedible, green tomato that I don’t believe ever got eaten.
    This may account for the wild success of the CSA movement.

  4. Barbara
    Barbara June 12, 2014 at 7:50 am | | Reply

    I’m with you, Walt! I’ve been gardening (flowers) for over 40 years and now and then try growing tomatoes. Most recently I tried them in those blue fabric planters that Gardener’s Supply sells (I got 8 of them half price) and I nursed them all summer but I must have bought the wrong size cause the containers themselves sagged along with the heavy vines. Holes appeared in the leaves and when, at last a few tomatoes were ready to harvest, tomatoes were available at the markets and from friends and family. Mine were not much larger than a golf ball, certainly not a tennis ball. My husband and I spent a couple of hours at least tying them up to a very elaborate staking network and the weight of the vines pulled it down slowly as well. Enough ! Leave the veggies to the organic farmers whom I am happy to support. I’ll go back to flowers.

  5. Stacey
    Stacey June 12, 2014 at 8:33 am | | Reply

    Just yesterday I solicited the violent bloodbath murder of five woodchucks for some aphid-munched lettuce and a few feet of spindly peas.

  6. anne
    anne June 12, 2014 at 11:54 pm | | Reply

    If Vermont is tough, Colorado is a close second. Having been in NJ your reader knows a good tomato, as do we from PA. I remember wheelbarrows full of tomatoes which became, after snacking, salads, and stewing, the art of catsup, chili sauce, cocktail sauce, etc. But, the power of the gardener flew the coop, or, as I seek an excuse, the temperature and clay of Colorado got between me and expertise. However, we have the organic gardens also, so we do have hope. Thanks for a fun show.

  7. anne
    anne June 12, 2014 at 11:54 pm | | Reply

    p.s. What a great picture!

  8. Geof Hewitt
    Geof Hewitt June 13, 2014 at 12:47 pm | | Reply


    What will you feed your future dinner?
    Liquid seaweed.
    You’ll feed it liquid seaweed.
    This is 99 cents for four liquid ounces, so make it go far
    by watering down at a ratio of 1:600.
    (Make sure the 1 part is the liquid seaweed.)

    Now you got yourself a thriving plant,
    what you going to do with it?
    Out on the windowsill but bring in at dusk
    or whenever the nights threaten to go below freezing.
    (Here that means you need a lot of indoor space,
    especially if you’re bringing the peas and potatoes in each night.)
    When danger of frost is past, set plant out in garden,
    pluck away weeds and try not to water. Let the roots grow deep
    in search of greater moisture and warmth
    than fickle human caring, the occasional hose
    or the equally fickle uncaring of the heavens can provide:
    let it be, but keep the weeds away.

    What will you feed your future dinner?
    Give it green cow manure or whatever you can find
    that helps add bulk to the earth,
    not just little pellets from the factories.
    Your soil needs stuff, not quick jolts
    of speed that rob it of vitality.

    Take tomato plants that have fought and gone leggy
    for the little light that makes it through your window,
    and lay roots and stem horizontal in a trench,
    two inches deep, cover with potting soil and heap good green cow dung
    on top to make a mound.
    Do this in full sunshine then run for cover
    you got tomatoes exploding from the earth
    like the wildest dreams of Generals,
    spaghetti sauce dripping from the clouds.
    Bubbling earth, we treasure
    your bounty, your visual possibility, the glory
    of our cooking spread beyond political borders,
    geographical zones erased, television flattening all terrain
    great waves of radio and inhumanity
    baking in the polar stew.

    Excuse this digression. You gotta believe
    there’s gonna be a September to start reading this recipe anyway.
    So you take the plant and keep its roots moist and warm
    and feed it until it starts feeding you
    or the raccoons:
    a subject of great interest. Don’t shoot
    raccoons, don’t try to fence them out.
    Don’t tie your biggest dog to the garden fence
    because raccoons will kill it.
    And don’t try to wave them off once they know the corn’s aripening.

    Surround your corn with a field of cucumbers,
    or failing that at least a band of them, four feet thick,
    and space four paper cups filled with beer in the cucumber bed
    and outside of that stake human hair
    in those airy nets that once held onions,
    and turn a transistor radio tuned to a wild all night disco station
    in a plastic sack to protect it from rain
    up full volume every night at sundown.
    Raccoons won’t want to dance to all that music,
    and will assume the flat, tepid cups of beer
    are all that remains of a bad party. Don’t ask me
    what role the human hair plays,
    though I cannot recommend this scheme without it.

    The pot is set to boiling before you go out for the harvest.
    Likewise, before I go fishing, I chill my favorite chablis
    and build the fire, for the fish
    just jump
    into my hands and I wrestle them, like my vegetables
    back to the waiting fire,
    stoked more by hunger, imagination, than by nuclear fuels or hardwood,
    the fire that drives the germs away, the fire that tenderizes,
    the fire for which this recipe’s prepared.

    -Geof Hewitt

  9. Tonio
    Tonio June 15, 2014 at 11:31 pm | | Reply

    This year I almost didn’t do a garden. Each relatively sunny day off I had this Spring I just didn’t feel
    like going out and tackling that mass of green stuff that had overpopulated what had been my garden last Summer. Finally, after about three or four weeks of avoidance and feeling progressively more and more guilty for not
    getting my lazy ass out there to weed my garden and get it ready for planting, about a week after labor day I went out there and did it. It wasn’t so bad. In fact, it felt pretty satisfying. And, I enticed myself, I wouldn’t plant so many things that I wouldn’t end up eating anyway – just the really important stuff I like the most, AND, at least as important, the really easy stuff. This year just a couple of Sun Gold cherry tomatoes, a couple of red russian kale, a dozen Serrano chilis, poles beans and Alan LePage’s favorite, Marconi Rampacante flat beans, also up the pole, or two.
    There it is, a modest little garden that even I, in my current overwhelmed and underinspired state of general chaos, could handle. And, if I feel more ambitious later, I can add some other things, like parsley, which I always overplant and undereat. And basil, which for some reason is always the most underperforming and pest-ridden thing in my garden. And maybe, some other herbs that I’ll largely ignore at cooking time.

  10. Tonio
    Tonio June 15, 2014 at 11:50 pm | | Reply

    ps I almost forgot to mention that I’m on a mostly ice cream diet these days. You know what they say – a pint a day keeps those romantic wannabe gardening ambitions away.

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