Rev. Erudite Redneck, B.S., B.S., M.A., M.Div.

It's my neighbor Dough's fault. He and his young'un, who's about as tall as half a hoe handle, were settin' out 'mater plants yesterday afternoon.

As whupped as I was from mowin' the front yard, edging the way the Good Lord intended (with a half-moon edger at the end of a handle), hoein' the back yard (not kidding: dandelions 3 and 4 feet tall, and I ain't lyin'), and stackin' the dandelion carcasses in a corner, then mowin' and hitchin' the mower up and mowin' again, this after makin' two runs to the Ace, and one run to the Tractor Supply, and havin' not eaten anything much but an egg and bacon sandwich from the Sonic because I was saving up for the ham steak, redeye gravy, butter beans and biscuits I did eventually have for supper ...

Despite all that, Dough and his own little Biscuit inspired me to make yet another run, to Lowe's, which was a goldarn pandelirous madhouse, to buy 'mater plants. But dadgum it, I wish I could find some Rutgers transplants. Best cultivar, an old one, for flavor and texture. Period. What I got was Homestead (which I saw someone described as "Rutgers for Florida" [it was developed in Homestead, Fla.]; we'll see), Better Boy, which comes too big for my personal taste, and, ha, a variety called Patio, which makes a dwarf plant and fruit that probably are too small for my tastes. But hey, with four containers, I've got big 'uns, little 'uns and my preferred size of love apples on the way.

--ER