Oh hail !

I watched the hair pour down* on my new car Tuesday; luckily, though plentiful, it was small and there appears to be no damage to the naked eye...

The community garden is another story. Plenty of little green tomatoes on the ground, and the leaves of the peppers, broccoli and tomatoes were pretty much stripped clean, but overall the plants should make it. About 6 cantelopes were exposed as the vines were pelted from above and simply shredded, and every single vegetable looks as though some critter knawed on it, here or there.

Still, it's amazing how the green comes back. If the vines are still connected to the fruits, a week of leaving things alone to see how they heal will tell me much. And then I'm reminded of that Kipling poem, on stooping and building things up again.

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

* Video found on YouTube. Not my own.