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| A Curly Pig Tail... |
Good "freaked out" Friday Morning, all bodies.
Well, yesterday, in my Facebook memories, I found a post I made six years ago about hunting for the perfect watermelon. I found the post after returning from the local grocery to purchase, you guessed it, a watermelon.
There's only one thing wrong with that... the god's timing!
So, for the amount of time it takes one to read a post from 2017, let's pretend that today IS a Thursday. Thanks for y'all's cooperation and understanding... Here ya geaux...
Still groovin’ after the Tuba Skinny concert on Saturday night, I skipped on over to Giddy Up to converse with the regulars and have a cup or two. Even though I thought it unwise to squeeze in some local grocery shopping, I managed to meet MaryJane, a good friend who has had her own special version of tribulations, and one who still finds a way to smile. We had a fun talk!
While grabbing a few things “we just can’t do without”, I was reminded that it was once again, Washington Parish Watermelon Time and they seemed to be going fast. As MaryJane went her own way in the store, I bumped into a total stranger who, like me, was kinda baffled as to which melon to take home.
I remember that song, “Watermelon Man” did pretty well on the radio in the late sixties.” I suspect it was a successful tune, especially in New Orleans, because most of us as well as our parents grew up with salesman selling fruit and veggies from a horse or mule drawn cart.
Herbie Hancock wrote the song, but Mongo Santamaria turned it into a hit!
“I never know which melon to pick,” a man said to me as if he needed help.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “The wife’s giving you grief about last year’s pick?”
The man was wearing a jeans, a camouflage tee shirt and a baseball cap that advertised a “weed and feed” store. To me, wearing blue jeans in this heat was a definite sign… he was a farm boy.
“So you don’t know how to pick a good watermelon either,” I said.
“Well, you’d think I’d be good at it because I used to grow them commercially, but lately, I haven’t been too successful picking a winner!”
“I know that’d be of little help. Washington Parish melons are usually the sweetest and juiciest I’ve ever had, though I must admit, I’ve had a few over the years that weren’t as good,” I replied.
“You know, he said, there’s a farm in South Carolina, I forget the brand name, that had a sure fire way of being consistently successful!”
“Oh, yeh, what was their secret,” I asked.
“It was a sure fire solution,” he said. Eighty five days after the melons are planted, they are harvested. Works every time… in South Carolina!”
“I’ll tell you a good way to be sure the melon here is ready. It seems to work pretty well when I was growing them, though not all the time!”
“Cool, man! What’s the secret? I asked.
“Try to find one where the stem is curled kinda like a pig’s tale!” He continued, “the way they farm now, it’s hard to find one with a stem still intact, but if you do, it’s a big help!”
So, after the man decided which one to pick, and left with his prize, I went digging around the two large cardboard boxes that were left and actually found one… kinda. Hopefully, it’s “Piggy Approved!”
First cup!
Copyright 2023/Ben BensenIII
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