Oh don't go, First off, I would like to issue an apology for getting some of the facts wrong in my letter of last week. My mom tells me that i started chasing ice cream trucks at the age of two and a half, not five. I'm not proud of it, I'm just saying. It's been looking like we were heading into one of those dry, brown, dusty summers, when three days of afternoon showers came to the rescue. The hills are greening up while i spend part of each day looking for the hidden containers that got filled with rain water and are now spawning hundreds of mosquitoes. There aren't too many things more irritating than a squadron of mosquitoes drillin' for the sweet red crude. They're little winged geologists, mining the gobs of viscous resources hidden just beneath the surface of our sparsely forested and pockmarked landscape. It's a matter of species security. Without blood, populations decline, the work force is decimated, depression and anger take hold, and nobody likes to do the zampoo-oogee angry and depressed. Populations decline further, water supplies dry up as global warming increases and eventually they're doomed. I dare say there's enough blood to power up the reproductive cycles of these frenzied flighted marauders for millenia to come. Question is, how to live in harmony, or is murderous rampage the only path worth pursuing when dealing with such a succubus? I will continue to seek out their source water and with one swift kick, end their tyranny. In the meantime, swatton. So me and nurse Lindsay did some shopping the other day and while walking around a certain downtown upscale hippy watering hole noticed a sign in the produce dept. that said, "tropical mango", blah blah a pound. So i checks it out with my " Nerdlingon Eye of Discrimination" and the liddle steeker on de fruit say, credido en Mexico. So i put two and two together and come up with the image of a field of Tommy Atkins mangos, maybe in Michoacan. The image expands to include a bunch of indonesian workers picking full but under ripe fruits. From there they get gassed to accelerate ripening and boxed up for cold storage and eventual shipment. Once shipped, they travel thousands of miles to put huge doofus grins on the people who overpaid bigtime for a mango that tastes a bit like crap if you've ever eaten one fresh picked and tree ripened . Now don't get me wrong, if you're some fruitophile from above the 43rd parallel and just have to have a "real" mango in the middle of winter, then what the hell, go down to Trader Joe's and see if they have any Kensington Prides in from Oz. If not, at least you can get some of the dried stuff from Thailand and soak it in Jaegermiester. These were fruits exported from Mexico to Maui where it's MANGO SEASON, fer' crisssake. How profoundly fucked up is that? Only thing I can figure is A: senseless commerce and the criminal insanity of "free" trade combine to befuddle the populace into the deepening illusion of endless growth and nonstop consumerism. B: The owners of said store are Mexican or C: half the cases of mangoes were injected with cocaine and heroin to be made into speedball juice for the local Yakuza and other government officials. There is a D. involving the implanting of alien spooge into a good portion of the populace (facilitated by the coca cola bottling company),imparting a state of indifferance to the truth so profound as to make people think that buying mexican mangos on Maui in June is really the bomb, but that one's a little far fetched. We are five percent of the worlds population, consuming twenty five percent of the worlds energy, made possible, at least in part by an infinitude of subliminal displays of uncompromising boneheadedness such as this. Worse yet, the world aspires to be like us. Lawwwd have moycie. Here's what i see. Same ol' rampaging political hyperbolic bullshit with the few deciding the fate of the many. Same ol' societal hypno/apathetic slumber from which awakening is the dream. Same ol' revelation that lemmings, according to ancient legend, can actually fly. Here's what i don't see. A "mainstream" definition of "sustainable" that makes even the slightest sense (permaculture theory and practice have provided this for decades but are far from mainstream). The collective will to move toward that illusive definition by reinventing ourselves in a fashion suitable to the powerdown to come, and a decent knish, i don't even need good, just decent. We've been planting the summer gardens and watching the late spring greens glow. The basil starts are woven in and around the seasonal greens and will be looking leafy good in a few weeks. We're planting enough to have steady supplies of pesto. The acorn squash is starting to set some fruit and I anticipate a good harvest to come. Bean starts are beginning to yield and melon runners are making a move. Almost past atemoya and cherimoya harvest and the avos are thinning out on the Sharwil tree with probably two or three weeks of yield left. We've got ten or twelve banana stalks filling out and good healthy looking papayas coming along. Our EGGS are smashing ( i like a two egg omelet with pesto, cheese and Mae Ploy drizzle) and if I can figure out how to keep Smartypantz off the deck where she reaches through the railing and steals the strawberries right out of the hanging baskets, we'll have a nice season coming up. Its funny to watch her manuevering around with her good eye, checking out the baskets, pecking at thin air, talking to herself. What a movie. Two clucks up. The nursery is freshly stocked with fruit, nut and spice trees sporting the best prices on the island and Jennifer will be happy to help you out (205-0430). We're open to food sales pretty much any time by appointment (878-6287), so if you need a full moon midnight salad with a side of avocado and a yard juice chaser, book it and don't forget to bring your bong. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp