August is one one those times. My time. Yes, it is watermelon time. Can you say, "someone is in heaven???". I make no excuses. I am a child of The South. A true hillbilly by birth. I've got watermelon written all over me. And running down the front of me as well. Trust me, the shallow end of my gene pool is full of watermelon rinds...
Melons and yours truly have a long history. A REALLY long history. I come from a long line of farmers. Crazy ones at the very least. But they had the good sense to plant melons. Mmmmmm!!! Cantaloupes. (Very good!) Muskmelons. (Even better!!!) And then there was the field of watermelons. OMg!!! Watermelons!!! Aah, yes, watermelons... Holy shit, those things were bigger than me!!!
I've known how to spot a ripe watermelon from 50 feet away since I was 4 years old. Screw that thumping it with your finger, I just had to roll it over and take a look at it. Mmmmm.... watermelon. Grandma taught me well. Yes, a melon of any sort is a thing a beauty, but, a watermelon. Now that is a whole different animal. I grew up with a whole shitload of melons. Cantaloupes get pepper. So does Muskmelon. Especially Muskmelon!!! To die for!!! But a Watermelon. Hmmmm... That's a whole different exit. I have been known to sit down and eat an entire watermelon by myself in one sitting with a salt shaker in hand. And stab one of my more stupid cousins with the fork when they made the bad decision to get too close to me while I was "feeding". Grandma always seemed to know how to settle the fight and bandage us back up. Or, at the very least, separate us somehow... Yeah, somehow that dear woman knew that watermelon was sacred to me. Yep, it was and still is, something that I do not give up easily.
Today, I search out melons with a vengeance. Of all kinds. I have gone berserk in grocery stores all over the world when I see a new melon. I have stalked melons of all sorts in all 4 hemispheres and way too many time zones. Show me a melon and I AM there!!! Show me what you can do with it? I AM THERE!!! I ain't met a melon that I have not wanted to marry. But...
Watermelon. OMg!!! Those things are like a weird chemical abuse thing with me. If I could actually figure out a way to dice them up with a razor blade and inhale them through a rolled up dollar bill I'd be a candidate for the Betty Ford Clinic right about now. Yes, it's that bad.
Unfortunately, today, a watermelon just isn't what it used to be. What the bloody hell is up with these "personal" watermelons??? The yellow ones??? (Yellow??? Really???) And this whole seedless thing is just an enormous pain in the ass. Yes, there, I have said it. PAIN IN THE ASS!!! WTF fun is a watermelon if you can't have a seed spitting contest on the front porch??? I would sell secrets to the former Soviet Union for one of those wonderful, 3 foot long, 50 pound, striped monsters that I had to haul out of grandma's garden in my Radio Flier Wagon because it was so big. Now, those were watermelons.
Grandma, I don't know what I miss more. You or your garden... But thank you for the taste of life on both counts!!! I remember spitting watermelon seed from your "glider" on your front porch before we ever heard the word "Sputnik".
Yeah... watermelons.
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