Got yer note, and by golly I thank you kindly fer that.

Untill you ast, it did’nt don on me that you was still such a young sprat you mite not know what the OGP is.

Thats money the guvamint sends us elderly sorts each-a-nevry month. It stands fer the Old Geezers Penshun. You and yer Baby Boomerang generashun will be gettin’ it soon enuff, I reckon.

Anyways, since we got back from the U, S and A, The Bride has been runnin’ around like a flock of hens with a ferrit on the loose, workin’ on the big plan to save the world from eminent disasster.

“If we want things to get better, first off we gotta stop makin’ it worse” she says “I spent 80 years wastin’ stuff, buyin’ stuff I don’t need, and gobblin’ up more’n my fare share of whats there fer us all to get by on. But not any more.”

And Bobs yer unkle, the very next day she’s got her big boat up fer sail on somethink called Gregs List, and shes orderin’ up soler panels and wind mills like there goin’ two fer a dollar, to put up over the island.

All this has me thinkin’ there must be more to this grand skeem of hers than what she’s lettin’ on so far, so I ast what she has in mind fer me.

“Rodney,” she says “I wants you and yer Unkle Walt to take over the runnin’ of my new rock garden.”

Now much as I hate to admit it, truth to tell is I dont know my aster from a zinnya when it comes to growin’ flours. But when I tell that to Eva, it dont phase ‘er one little bit.

“You dont need to know about flours, ’cause there ain’t gonna be any” she says.

I’m startin’ to think maybe the plane ride to Hawayaii has shook some of wires loose, but then she lays out how its all part of the plan.

Turns out she wants evry last inch of the place used fer growin’ vegtables.

“We cud put proper food on the table of at least a hunderd hungry famlys evry day of the year and it wud’nt cost ’em one thin dime” she says “And if we can, then by golly we’re gonna.”

Next thing she asts is do I know how to do organnical farmin’, on accounta she don’t hold with pumpin’ our bodys full of stuff that cud be killin’ us and the planet to boot.

So I tell her I learnt how to farm from my Daddy, who was too poor or too cheep to use anythink fer growin’ crops that did’nt come from the ground, the sea, or the back end of the livestalk.

And the ownly thing that went in the front end was stuff he grew hisself.

There still plenty of detales to work out in Evas plan. But I gotta tell you Darrol, shes got me thinkin’.