There is much to do around here. The rains and associated conditions hampered my progress, in both lawn and garden.
The lawn surrounding the little blue house at the end of the road looks great today. Tomorrow, if conditions are favorable, the homestead property will get the treatment as well.
By the time that we conquer the footpaths, roadways and pasture, here and there, this yard will need some TLC again. It is a never-ending battle to keep up.
We will finish planting the garden this week. I think I will be in good shape, in that regard.
This week, I have an appointment with my health care provider. I did not hear it though the grape vine, but a note about lab work, written in small scribe on the top of my medicine sack from CVS. Imagine that. I am lucky that I glanced at it and found the message.
Tristen Tucker sent us a flyer. Tucker Farm Produce's strawberries are ripe and ready for harvest. You can pick your own or they will save your knees and pick them for you. These days, we choose the latter.
Since I still have a few packages in the freezer, 10 quarts will suffice.
The Tuckers offer other produces and honey, as those become available.
We looked forward each to cherries, peaches, persimmons, red and purple plums, and delicious apples picked and plucked from our own trees.
The Concord grape starts that Dad brought me from Leslie's Nursery will soon be in ground 35 years and many bunches of the smooth skinned purple beauties.
The healthy root systems even survived a move and the transplants in 1987.
Last year, I raised everything under the sun in my vegetable garden. Now, after many healthy meals since, we must replenish our store. More is better.
Before that, we will chow down on the fresh stuff, as it presents itself.
Then come mid-August, I will set the garden aside, park the tiller and hand plow and clean up nicely. We have a wedding to attend.
Our eldest grandson, Michael Risk, will marry his beloved, Kayliegh Dawn Fredenburg, in Brownsburg.
I will be shopping for the best dress and accessories for the occasion, age appropriate, of course. No, I am not thinking of something in red. Perhaps pale green would be nice. After all, it is to be a garden wedding. I like to blend in.
Grandfather Sartor will be wearing a tuxedo and his broad Cheshire cat grin. He is a part of the wedding party.
Last week, several readers called me to comment and inquire about a mention in last week's "Brazil Buzz."
Do you remember the groundhog's "Hole" incident? I told you my foot and lower leg went down to the knee into the burrow as I was cutting through tall grass.
I also stated that I pulled it out and checked 10 toes to see if they were intact. Well, folks, everyone got a chuckle out of that.
Someone asked me if I have a deformity. I am a little warped and losing ground, and, no doubt about it, the foot is not anything fancy, but I only have five toes per each foot.
Here is how that happened. Many times, since this column was born in 2002, I have tried to add a little humor to my ramblings. When I sit down at the computer, this writer usually has no plan as to what I will write. This writer clears her mind of worries and woes and lets it happen naturally.
As I was writing about the clumsy foot, I slipped in the part about the toe count (10) to see if you were on your toes. In my favor, you read it, caught it and were concerned.
I was laughing aloud, heartily. This nut woke up Tootie Mae Sartor. She understands about extra toes. She has a couple of standouts of her own.
I purchased some dark plum nail polish to beautify those toenails. In case anyone requests, "show and tell."
I might add a little pledge to my bunion, even if it does stick out like a sore thumb.
In addition, you put up with me -- imagine that.
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.