An embarrassment of riches
It was somewhat embarrassing. Not as mortifying as being elbowed by your wife because you were snoring in church, but still. This fall, our garden yielded an embarrassment of riches. Last winter, when I was pining for summer, I begged the garden gods to grant me just a few pumpkins and gourds. A mischievous garden god must have grinned and said, “Hold my beer.” I lost the crop about five times, which is typical for most growing seasons. First it was too warm and dry, then it became too cold and wet. This just proves the timeworn farmer’s adage that there are only five kinds ...