Friday, May 13, 2011

garden paradise

So when we moved to California - the salad bowl of America, the tomato ketchup bottle of the world, the pickled walnut jar of the universe - it was with certain expectations.


Here's my undergardener in May in Scotland:

And here he is, taking it as easy as possible in May in California:

But it's worth it for the overflowing cornucopia of abundancy goodness, right?


Here's my veg patch in May in Scotland:

And here's my veg patch today, 12th May 2011, in California:

And now in close-up.  Look - it's a salad.  Look harder.

I've got a sneaking suspicion that all the "local" produce in markets and roadside stands all over this state is secretly imported from Aberdeenshire.


  1. Come on all you Californians. Don't let her get away with this. She's a writer - using oodles of poetic licence* here. If she doesn't come clean about the bitter winds and the slugs and the frosts in May in Scotland (where i still reside and struggle with my veg patch) I'm going to blow her cover.

    *and yes, i might be defending your U.S. climate but i'm not doing the same for your bizarre spelling foibles.

  2. My one trip to California was in May. I froze. Having been bought up with dreams of California, I was heartbroken. Even the surfers on the meagre little waves were having to wear wet suits to stay out there.
    The compensations were not to be denied, great food, friendly natives, great shopping and cocktails, giant mothers of all cocktails.... the hangovers could have been left out...