Customs tell a man who he is, where he belongs, what he must do. Better illogical customs than none; men cannot live together without them. Robert A. HeinleinAll groups will have customs specific to themselves and nowhere is this more apparent than in isolated communities. Our intention has always been to go with the flow but recently I was temporarily wrong footed. "Got your broccoli yet?" became the standard greeting around town. "Umm, no", I replied. Looks of disbelief followed by pity for the hapless newcomer. "Better get a move on" I was told darkly. On the drive home I noticed a large sign, "Broccoli has arrived".
|West Coast Seeds|
|The Wedding Dance, 1566 by Pieter Bruegel The Elder|
On the way home I stopped in at the garden centre. A few trays of purple sprouting broccoli languished on the shelves. "You've left it a bit late" I was admonished. "I didn't know", I wailed. They took me in hand.
Unbelievably, it seems everyone does plant broccoli. Well, maybe not everyone, but a lot of gardens, observed to be barren and neglected all summer, have sprouted, as it were, a patch of broccoli. My own plants are now safely tucked under a row cover as instructed. I am assured I will be feasting on it in early Spring.