This evening I pulled some bacon out of the freezer, got out the mayo and the lettuce and, you guessed it, we had homemade BLTs for dinner. My kids thought I was being a bit fastidious when I toasted the fresh whole wheat bread--the variety I buy is a little wide for putting two side by side in this long narrow toaster. I insisted on toasting them one at a time so there wouldn't be any soft spots on the toast, then put mayo on both sides, layered on the lettuce, the home-grown and oh-so-flavorful generous slices of tomato, and some nice thick smoky bacon. The last touch, to put the top slice of toast on and give it a gentle "mash" to compress all of the parts together enough so it holds a bit and fits into your mouth. Mmmmmm! (That last part probably doesn't appear in any cookbooks--and don't dare do it with a hermetically gloved hand--the love from the cook to the diner passes through the bare hand compressing the sandwich ever-so-slightly!)
Meanwhile, I have a bunch of golf-ball sized canteloupe coming up in what was supposed to be a bed of lantana. I used compost last fall as top dressing on the bed, and I have a couple of volunteers out in the front yard. That's okay, though, because I also planted tomatoes and green peppers out there, and there is some oregano in one bed being encouraged to act like groundcover. The fruit is in good company. And for color, my Texas star hibiscus burst into bloom last week for the first time this summer. I have four plants, but this one is earlier than the rest. We had six simultaneous flowers a couple of days ago. Last year was my first for growing them, and the plants were all small. They grew back much larger this year, and each flower is the size of a saucer. (That's a temporary link to the flower, I'll be cleaning out the files pretty soon, and quite a few have already gone away that I linked to in earlier posts on other topics).
The downer in the neighborhood is that an 80-year-old neighbor who has lived in the mountains of Colorado for years finally moved back to Texas because he couldn't live in the high elevation with his breathing problems. The house he owns here was rented out for many years. Now he's back, and the old fart has decided that the squirrels are stealing too many of his pecans. His nextdoor neighbor estimates that he has trapped and shot about 30 squirrels. Neighbors have crept into his yard and stolen his traps (he used to have some of those nasty old ones that clapped shut and crushed the animal between the halves). He got some have-a-heart traps, but he shoots the poor things where they are in the trap before disposing of them. He doesn't do anything with the pecans so that's just an excuse, but we're racking our brains to find some way to put a stop to this short of putting his head into one of his own traps. I heard that another neighbor walked up to him tonight and freed the squirrel right in front of him before he had time to shoot it. Hurrah, Beth, but I hope no one gets hurt!