“Honey, I can’t find the dog?”
“The okra ate her.”
Y’all. It’s tremendous. It’s out of control. It’s towering above the rest of the garden. It’s a marvel of feats of strength. It’s…it’s…
delicious. We like it in creole succotash. And by “we” I mean David and I, as the girls have a finer, more refined palate. Or maybe what I mean is they have a palate that reads like a Baskin Robbins menu.
But what does one do when one can’t reach the tippy top of their plants? The tippy top where the okra has decided it is most best to flower and fruit? Especially when the plant one needs to tippy top off grows at lightning speed and has to be harvested every 12 hours? One should call for reinforcements. Especially tall reinforcements. Reinforcements so tall they remind me of my most favorite ever fairy tale. Tell you? Why, if you insist…
Once upon a time, in a forest of peas, there lived a medium-sized garden blogger slightly lacking in upper body strength but abundant in quirks.
One day, while walking along through the forest of peas, she came along a handsome woodsman with far greater upper body strength and the height of a Eurobasketball player. This medium-sized garden blogger asked him to come to her aid, which required both feats of strength and feats of height, for the trellises need a trellis.
The woodsman retrieved his trusty ax…er…mallet he sometimes needs for work and pounded and prodded, muttered and sputtered, and before long, saved the near-death trellis. Their eyes met, they realized they already had two children together, and forsooth, both they and the plucky peas lived happily ever after.
So maybe not the okra, but the bitties did eat the peas. Straight out the pod, in fact, and fast enough to keep me from hardly getting any inside the house. I’m sure they tasted so yummy due entirely to the excellent nutrient and water intake they were capable of receiving once the trellis was trellised.
(In case you’re wondering, this is what is known as a preemptive strike of flattery, as I need my okra cut later today…)