Speaking of watermelon . . .
Sydney snorted when I brought home a watermelon a couple of years ago and prepared to cut it open in the kitchen. Watermelon, it seems, are best eaten outside, when sitting on the benches in our yard wielding a large kitchen knife. There you can make all the mess you want, enjoy the good food in the fresh air, drop the seeds all over, and as for the rinds . . .
Apparently Sydney’s idea of disposing of watermelon rinds is to break them into appropriately-sized pieces and then throw them across our yard, across the road, and into the trees on the other side. Sydney may be an academic, but he’s also a farm boy, so there’s much winding up of the arm and, admittedly, an impressive whine as the pieces goes whizzing past my head. The former tomboy in me is jealous.
So our watermelon-eating these last few months has meant much throwing and seed-spitting and laughter as cars go by, moments before we throw another piece of rind behind them. It’s a lot of fun. Our house is on top of a slope, so we get a great pitcher’s-mound effect. I have a few things to learn to be good at throwing, but most of our pieces end up in the brush on the other side of the road. A few pieces hit the power line and drop straight down near our yard, causing much laughter amidst the explosion of juice, and some pieces slip in my hand halfway through the throw and end up all over the place.
Country entertainment at its best.
Erin
Alan Schmierer