not musty, not fusty, not cucumber or grubby

Saturday we worked in the garden a good bit and then went to Paso Robles for the Olive Festival. After reading about all the bogus olive oil coming from Italy I was looking forward to maybe finding something as tasty as we did at the San Francisco Port Market. Olive oil farms, ranches? are popping up around the county and I was excited to find something local to fall in love with but after about 4 or 5 tastings we gave up. They were all, without exception, nasty tasting things. Very grassy with a bitter aftertaste. Maybe this is how real unadulterated olive oil should taste? Maybe we’re just so used to crap that we can’t like the real stuff. According to the E. U. regulations for extra virgin olive oil there are 16 official taste flaws which include “musty, “fusty”, “cucumber” and “grubby”. I’m not sure I know what grubby tastes like. Or “fusty” either. I know the crowd made us both anxious being the sort of recluses we are.

We bought a candle, had some Thai food and came home. Our little nest. More work in the garden. I’ve started a garden journal to keep a record. We move things around every year and start new things and find old things. This weekend while digging we found a shell, a rusty old wrench, flattened out spoon and a half full bag of manure writhing with worms.

Yesterday our daughter invited us to a concert! It was the first time in years she’s asked us to do anything with her and granted it was because she needed a ride, but still. When your teenage daughter who usually can’t stand the sight of you asks you to go somewhere, you get dressed. It was the last thing I wanted to do since I was already dressed in my grubbies, shovel in hand but after recovering from the shock of the request I dressed quickly and got in the truck. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon. The music was fabulous, the guitar player had a Johnny Cash, Elvis, Buddy Holly vibe thing going on and he dedicated a song about a transvestite to his grandfather whose birthday it was. Grandad was sitting in the audience wearing a band t-shirt and I’m pretty sure Grandma was a girl, but you can’t tell for sure. It was a mixed bag of nuts of all ages so fun to watch. Scottie and I really should get out more.

And when I am not digging in the dirt, I stitch.

I'm listening

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