They survived harvest last year because I'd lost all interest in gardening after 30 days straight of 105f. They were covered then anyway in the dead midget red corn remnants, purple swiss chard that I never even ate, wild-crazed arugula gone to seed- not to mention weeds of a hundred varieties.
There they lived the unusually mild winter, possibly because insulated by all that . . . crap.
This spring they sprung anew into life, to the point where the neighbors called me 'the guy who grows onions.'
Going to seed with the tops reminding me of the Moscow skyline, I pulled them, so as to start the garden again, just because. Turn the soil my Grandpa told me and it stuck although I fully realize that in two months it'll look like it did last year again, or maybe not! Yeah it will.
So I plowed by shovel and started tomatoes and peppers, setting the onions on the back porch, pondering possible French soup recipes yesterday.
Then, this morning, THIS!
Even the four that we had cut the flesh and roots from and threw on the grill with the yellow squash and zuchini last night.... the Moscow tops were reaching for the sun!
They're still out there too... and I'm left to contemplate..
... how to deal with them humanely. Damn