Resist!

Like Gaby's (see below), our tomatoes are not at their best. I'm watering them, but they look tired at the end of the day. Some flowers are not fruiting, and the existing fruits are in no rush to ripen. This weather is brutal for all, except maybe the goats, who seem unfazed.

In an act of drought defiance, I have decided to keep a small plot of grass green. About 20 x 30 feet. I am watering it. I just overseeded it and fertilized. It's going to be as green as an Oregon country club fairway.

I know, it's idiotic. It's the opposite of what one should do in a dry spell (a three-year dry spell, to be more exact). But we're letting 22 acres go as dry as dust—one big crunchy, brown pasture waiting for a prairie fire. Other than infrequent watering of our flowers and bushes (and tomatoes), we're letting the rest of our yard and barnyard die. So my Private Protest Patch—smaller than your typical country club putting green, to stay with that analogy—is small potatoes. Or tomatoes.

Up yours, drought.