Summer eased into Florida and now is the epitome of steamy hot! Although lots of rain and sunshine are essential for a successful garden, mine floated and sizzled to the point that all that is left are sweet potatoes hiding underground with lots of healthy foliage, one wiry eggplant bush that somehow keeps producing, thyme, basil and lots of marigolds. I go to my plot at the community garden only once a week to pull a weed or two, pick any ripe vegetables and fresh basil leaves. Marigolds are blooming, but not doing their job repelling bugs, as I continue to find stinkbugs and other insects that terrorize what's growing. They're bold enough to sit on the leaves of the flowers and plot their next course of dining action.
I went to the gardens at 3:30 a week ago. The temperature was 99F. I picked a pile of eggplants, ripped out everything but what was mentioned above and drug it across the field to the compost pile. The picture of eggplants I am including shows how hot it was, as some are actually shriveled from heat. I got home and soaked them in cold water, as the skin temperature was roasting. I ended up baking them and making baba ganoush, an eggplant/hummus/lemonly dip for pita chips. While at the garden, I greeted Blanca is from Mexico and Bill, from some Spanish speaking Caribbean island who was watering a huge pigeon pea tree in his garden. Both speak perfect English and I admired their exotic plants and chatted before heading to mine to do the clean out. A half hour into my work, Bill called to me in Spanish and I, who only has a rudimentary grasp of the Spanish language, remain puzzled that I understood his slurred words clearly: "Pardon me, do you have sugar candy?" I looked up to see him swaying in the heat, grabbed my lemonade from my bag as I shouted to Blanca and we both ran to the rescue, pouring icy cold lemonade down his throat and shirt, holding him up, and walking his rubbery legs to his car for air conditioning. Bill is a diabetic, and the strenuous exercise in the heat was too much for him. Low sugar gives a man a drunk appearance and behavior. If I saw a stranger on the street in this condition, I might have avoided him!
While Blanca continued to cool, hydrate, and raise Bill's blood sugar with my weak lemonade, I ran to the corner store for orange juice, which brought him back to sober normalcy in minutes. A good blessing out was given in Spanish from Blanca for being a diabetic in the heat without cold water or hard candy in his pocket. Bill went home with my favorite insulated drink container and the law laid down that before he ever returns to the gardens, it should be filled with ice and cold water, the sun should be just rising or nearly setting, and his sugar should be checked before leaving the house. Blanca and I were pronounced angels from heaven, given big sweaty lemonade hugs, and with a big smile, Bill drove himself home. Bill was worried that "my wife is going to keeeel me", and Blanca and I were relieved to know he would tell her what happened, so she could watch him the rest of the afternoon to be sure we didn't over sugar him. I went back to the little store, paid for the orange juice and bought Blanca and me each homemade Mexican pineapple popsicles and a sports drink, then she and I went back to finish our gardening. I was so hot, dirty and still a little shaky after the Bill ordeal that when I got home, I got into the pool fully clothed, not even bothering to change into a swimsuit.
