Gaza, cont’d


Is that peppers Shaqoura is pitching into the pot, in his TikTok? Nobody’s going around picking peppers, surely. Dehydrated, I guess. Flash dried, they’ll keep their green pretty well, I guess. Here there’s enough of a glut that we’re letting them go red and rot on their stalks.

A few months back I was desperate for green beans. That’s how I felt. We’d run out—no more in the freezer. Paulson planted a bigger-than-usual patch, but then the bunnies visited, causing me additional agitation. He closed off the rows with chicken fencing and electric wire, though, and we got bagsandbagsandbags socked away.

At issue now is the cabbage. Little heads are coming, botchy-looking things, and if they’re too bored through by worms I’ll have to resort to the store binfuls, what a blow. I know—I don’t know desperate. I just really want cabbage, a copious perfectly green-as-green crop.

 


 


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