There is no one to be seen, the car is gone and the doors are closed, so I call him: ,, Where bist? Stoa bie die veur t fence. ”
He’s at the back of his yard, says he’ll be right there, and it’ll take a minute or so. His garden has just been cultivated and the man, from whom I always get plants, advice, vegetables, chicken and salmon, is fascinated by mysterious traces in the sand. Too big for cat or rabbit. Golden jackal perhaps? But do they run with us?
“Martenhound,” I suggest.
,, Zoll chins ” is the answer,,, everything goes on here at night .”
We look at the tracks, but we can’t figure it out. I think deer, but he hesitates and I think no further, because the man knows more about plants and animals than I do.
Anyway, I want tomatoes. But the choice is limited, because it is early in the year. The man advises to wait with cucumber and zucchini. Ground is still a bit too cold. I’ll go for two new trees, orange or tangerine, he’s not sure, as well as romaine lettuce and red lettuce.
,, Roman lettuce box moar ain time to eat anyway ?’, I inquire. I remind him that he told me that last year. If you cut romaine lettuce leaves to eat, it will grow back, but he says the new growth isn’t as tasty.
,, did I say that? I wait no more .”
,, Joe , Real. Or quack a bit ?”
He smiles: ,, Joa, just keep coming, or will I keep the maiste to chin verdainen .”