On the 26th Day...

That wonderful lady pictured to your immediate right said "I do."

Yes she did -- no matter how much she might try to deny it now.

You see -- I have it on tape.

A baseball fan -- check that -- a San Francisco GIANTS baseball fan knows the date of October 26, 2002 all too well. It's a day that will forever vex Giants fans. For -- on that day -- the Giants blew the 6th game of the World Series -- and would eventually lose to the Angels in seven.

It's also the day that Venus and Bill got married.

Ancient history you say? Perhaps. But I remember it like yesterday. I remember every moment. I even remember the steps leading up to said event.

I should remember them -- since I made plenty of mistakes. It's a wonder the lady didn't call the cops first.

I suppose an explanation is in order.

When I first placed my eyes upon this lady -- I was smitten forever. Never before -- and never again -- would my eyes be graced with such a lovely presence. My co-workers would later tell me that my jaw dropped to the floor -- but let's just call it what it is shall we?

Love at first sight.

However -- the first attempts to woo the lady that would become my wife were filled with one blunder after another. I didn't know her yet. I didn't know her likes. I didn't know her dislikes. I didn't know what pleased her. I didn't know what displeased her.

I only knew that I loved her.

Knowing her love for all things Spanish -- I thought a bit of poetry might be in order -- and immediately set out to find the most romantic poem -- written in Spanish -- that I could find.

Just one problem: I didn't know a lick of Spanish other than "Mas Cervasa por favor?" I still don't

Still -- I managed to run across something on the World Wide Web -- a long-dead Spanish poet described as the "Shakespeare of Spain."

"Aha," I thought. "Perfect!" And so I proceeded to copy this poem -- and send it to her with a vase full of flowers.

Her reaction was less than I desired.

The Spanish poet in question -- you see -- wrote about a Knight in Shining Armor that fell in love with a young lady and did his level best to woo her. The words of this 15th century poem -- roughly translated -- read "my love for you even pierces this suit of armor."

There's just one problem. What was written in the 15th century doesn't necessarily translate into the same thing in modern day times. Have you ever read Shakespeare? Better question: Have you ever understood what Shakespeare was writing about?

The Spanish word for a suit of armor is "Armas." It's also the same word used for "armed" or "gun."

So -- roughly translated in today's language -- what I sent to the woman I was so smitten with was: "I have a gun and I'm coming after you."

And you dare ask "how did you ever get married?"

Sometimes I wonder myself.

Three is a Beautiful Number...

Three more games... Three more games... Three more games... Three is the only number that I can think of today -- as my thoughts are occupied by the magic that is currently taking place at AT&T Park in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Three more games...

St. Clare Catholic Church, Roseville CA

It wasn't all that long ago -- you understand -- October 26th, 2002 to be exact -- when the wonderful wife that is Venus said those magic words "I do" and started this magic journey of ours. "Watch Bill & Venus get married," we exclaimed. "Then watch the Giants take care of the Angels in Game 6 of the World Series during the reception and bring home a first-ever baseball championship to San Francisco."

Unfortunately -- as the rumor goes -- someone popped open a bottle of champagne a tad too early that night. The Giants would not win Game 6. They would eventually blow a 3-2 series lead by choking away Game 7 on the first night of our honeymoon cruise. There would be no joy in San Francisco. No championship. No party. Just missed opportunities.

As Frank Sinatra once crooned: "That's Life."

Hello Kitty Beehive

Speaking of life -- there is something rather strange taking place in the Backyard of Bird at the moment. You can see it in the photograph to your immediate left. Yes -- that is the "Hello Kitty" beehive. And you'll notice that the bees are quite active today. That's a good thing. They're active every single day of the week. I've been gifted with a strong hive -- but that's another story for another day.

No -- what I'm referring too is that "volunteer" tomato plant to the right of the hive. It's doing something that I have never seen a plant do before. It is literally changing colors before my very eyes. It's not dying. It's just turning a bright shade of yellow. I'm not sure how. I'm not sure why. It just is.

Mystery Tomato Plant Turning Yellow

I have never witnessed a tomato plant do such a thing before. Normally? Tomato plants start out green and remain green through the course of a growing season. They will yellow somewhat as the weather turns colder and the season comes to a close -- but that's the mark of death. I'm used to that.

No -- this is different. I have a healthy tomato plant that is turning a bright shade of yellow and I really can't understand why. It is also covered with a heavy crop of lacewings (I think that is what they are called) who gracefully move from leaf to leaf. There are scads of them -- as well as scads of tomato flowers -- but no tomatoes have formed on this plant yet (as far as I can tell).

I don't want to get too close to that "Hello Kitty" beehive you understand. It's late fall. Pollen sources are drying up. This is when honeybees tend to get defensive. They can -- and will -- reach out and "touch" you in ways you really don't like. So -- mind your manners young man.

There are some tomato plants -- some rare strains -- that do change colors during the course of a season. The father of the modern tomato -- Alexander Livingston -- wrote about one such plant in his 1893 book "Livingston and the Tomato." The name of this particular variety escapes me at the moment -- but the strain is very old -- and it's not counted as one of the "favorites" among heirloom growers.

I have never grown such a plant. I've heard of it in various publications. But I've never actually seen one in person.

Perhaps a smarter gardening mind than mine can figure this one out? I'm open to suggestions. I must tell you -- this plant is breathtakingly beautiful. It is a shimmering dark green. Based upon the number of flowers it is producing -- it appears to be some sort of cherry variety. But a tomato plant that turns a bright shade and healthy shade of yellow? That's a new one for me.

This is one of the many reasons -- I suppose -- why I like to grow heirloom tomatoes. Number one in my book -- of course -- is a love for all things tomato. I can't get enough of them. But it's also the surprises that tend to pop out of the ground every season.

Large Orange Cherry Tomato Plant

One of those surprises that continues to do very well into the fall season is a surprise cherry variety that I call Large Orange Cherry. It appears to be some sort of cross between a Sun Gold Cherry (which I grew several years ago but have not planted since) and another larger variety. This thing popped up outside of a raised bed last year and produced a few large -- orange colored -- cherry tomatoes.

I did not seed nor save it. I was surprised to see it spring to life again -- on the other side of a large backyard. It has flourished in this place -- it's new home -- and this year I will make an attempt to seed and save a variety that refuses to die.

That's Life.