Silvester ist bald da!
'n guude Rutsch ins Neue Jahr!
EST +14 Dazaifu, Fukuoka, Hakata, Karatsu
EST +13 Perth
EST +12 Saigon
EST + 8 Peredelkino
EST + 7 Suomi
EST + 6 Bretagne, Mußbach, Frankfurt a.M., Wehdem, Harburg
EST + 5 Frón, Londinium, Hereford
EST --- Cincinnati, Cleveland, the Big Apple, Ontario, Québec
EST - 2 Utah
EST - 3 Sacramento, Vancouver
I hereby declare Sauerkraut season officially open!
Decades ago, my mother purchased a very special Advents Calendar. It depicts the fairy tale of Frau Holle. You see her at the upper left in the image above.
She shakes out the bedding and snowflakes gently fall down to earth. It's a tale of two girls in the end. They couldn't be more different in how they handle the journey into Frau Holle's realm.
It is one of my favourite Grimm tales, and I used to listen to the recording I have found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4m-shDpZaM ... I am sorry to say that I wasn't able to locate a recording in English; however, I did find an English description here: https://www.wisecronecottage.com/2016/05/frau-holle-grimm-fairy-tale.html
Now for non-fiction, which this year I am reading more of than fiction. I have long been interested in essay writing, so I have been reading magazine articles and other pieces written by Hanif Abdurraqib over the years. Last year, I picked up a copy of They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us, and this year, I pre-ordered A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance.
His 2017 collection is one of the finest collection of essays I have had the honour to read. Felt like this young man was in the room talking directly to me with his thoughts and words. So happy I followed my friend's sincere recommendation to purchase this book. Mr. Abdurraqib has my respect and my gratitude for teaching me, for entertaining me, and for provoking me in the best way. I raise a quality pint of ale to this scintillating wordsmith.
Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet, by Thich Nhat Hanh, Sister True Dedication (Editor)
Solid food for thought and action! Eye-opening and invigorating.
I appreciate the fact that the reader is presented with words from both elders and youths. Each generation has the task of saving the planet for the next. Truth. And I am thankful to find simple (not simplistic) solutions that I can contribute to in order to save the planet in my lifetime.
When They Call You a Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir, by Patrisse Khan-Cullors, Asha Bandele, Angela Y. Davis (Foreward)
For years, my neighbours and I have been losing the "Black Lives Matter" signs we put in the front yard. We don't find them in the trash bins, so we can only assume folks are taking them. So I was glad to find that a memoir had been written and published by a co-founder of the Black Lives Matter movement.
On the front cover, in delicate gold foil, I discovered "I am a survivor. I am stardust." That's when I knew that I would glean much from this reflection on humanity. I am grateful to Patrisse Marie Khan-Cullors Brignac for her courage, her strength, her leadership, her gentle wisdom, and for "the movement that gives us hope".
Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest, by Suzanne Simard
I checked out this book after being disappointed by the Peter Wohlleben books on the topic of trees and forests. And I am happy that I did, because Suzanne Simard's work was excellent! The author's childhood experiences no doubt contributed to the depth of knowledge conveyed. Did it at times feel that part of some chapters were a little over my head scientifically speaking? Yes. But I enjoyed those portions, too. I found the mix of personal experiences and woodland science fascinating. The photographs added to the visualization of the author's world, too. And now I feel there might be reason to hope after all .
The Soul of an Octopus: A Surprising Exploration into the Wonder of Consciousness, by Sy Montgomery
Living in Japan, I was never able to bring myself to try tasting octopus. I can't explain it. So when I saw this book sitting on the library shelf, I brought it home and spent the weekend reading. Wow! The narrative really spoke to me ... Sy was born in the same city as I was, a fact I learned after finishing the book. Maybe that had a part to play in how deeply her words resonated with me. Fantastic book!!
Woman Walking Ahead: In Search of Catherine Weldon and Sitting Bull: New and Updated Edition, by Eileen Pollack
I can't recall how this book crossed my path, but I am happy it did. Altogether a superbly realized study. Engaged as I am with researching my family history, this book was right up my alley. Not only did I learn about Catherine Weldon, a determined woman ahead of her time, I felt as though I were being taken on a journey of discovery together with the author (another determined woman). Eileen Pollack does a magnificent job of immersing her reader in two time periods. She asks the questions, digs up primary sources, talks to people, provides important context, follows up on clues and hunches, and what comes of it is amazing. As a girl growing up in Germany, I was fascinated by the Sioux, so in addition, this volume reacquainted me with my past passions. I learned so much about Sitting Bull and his people at Standing Rock. Very happy to have stumbled upon this book!
Historical Brewing Techniques: The Lost Art of Farmhouse Brewing, by Lars Marius Garshol
Gentle readers, I am certain that this title comes as no surprise to you. This heavy tome was a fun and informative read for a homebrewer like me! It gave me ideas and now I want to travel to the old country and commune with hardy brewers and brewsters. The author did us all a favour in that now these ancient brewing and fermentation techniques and traditions won't be completely lost.
The Typewriter Revolution: A Typist's Companion for the 21st Century, by Richard Polt
Another hefty (almost 400 pages) book that was pure joy for me to dive into. Last year, the Olivetti Underwood Lettera 32 my grandfather presented to me about 40 years ago developed carriage trouble. Soon, I was unable to continue typing letters to friends and relatives. Because of the pandemic lockdown, I couldn't go to antique shops in the area to look for a parts typewriter. I ordered this book and then was able to begin the necessary research to repair my beloved Lettera 32. In addition, I learned so much about the "Typewriter Revolution" and the news about those of us who continue to write with manual typewriters in the early 21st century! A very helpful and enjoyable book. And if you're worried about privacy, well, "they" can't hack a typewriter!
(Now I feel like re-watching the 2006 German film, "The Lives of Others.")
These past two years, I have been reading quite a bit more that usual. And, several books spoke to me. My tendency is to not choose a book by it's type or even by author. Rather, I pick each one by feel, sometimes after listening to a review on NPR radio or an author interview on the BBC. Other times a friend mentions a title they have read or discusses a character they are happy to have "met."
In this post, I'll introduce you to some of the fiction I've imbibed through the Corona time. In the post to follow, I'll then write about the non-fiction titles that caught my eye and have led me to ponder and learn.
So, in no particular order, I present to you the top six works of fiction I've discovered since early 2020.
Deathless
Divide (Dread Nation, #2), by Justina Ireland
Another
excellent volume from Justina Ireland! I couldn't put it down. The
dialogues are extremely well-written, to the extent that I "hear"
the verbal sparring in the voices of the characters as I turn the
pages. And I adore the friendship between these two women we have all
come to love and cherish - Jane and Katherine. In addition, the
supporting characters are fleshed out in a most satisfying manner,
and the depth of the storytelling is rich, satisfying, and packs an
emotional punch. Feels like real his(hers)tory. I am hoping for more tales from this duo!
The
Deep, by Rivers Solomon, Daveed Diggs, William Hutson, Jonathan
Snipes
This vivid tale
of remembrance sang to me. The words are musical in more ways than
one. I cannot recommend this novella highly
enough.
One quote stays with me, “Forgetting
was not the same as healing.”
This
Is How You Lose the Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone
This
one differed
from the novels I tend to pick up. A little while ago, I stumbled
upon a quote from this book and decided to check it out from my local
library. It took me several months to make it through the first three
chapters ... and then it clicked at some point. In all honesty, I
could not put it down and finished reading it over two nights.
A
thrilling ride these two authors took me on, let me say. Superb ...
all around superb. And the way they wrote it! Wow. I'll let it all
sink in, and then re-read it over the
winter.
A
Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk & Robot #1), by Becky Chambers
I
had not read anything previously by Becky Chambers. Her characters
came alive in this short tale of wonder, perfect for the times we are
in. And the settings were described so well that I dreamt I was
there!
I
am happy to see that this is #1 and am very much looking forward to
#2.
Butterfly
Yellow, by Thanhha Lai
(Scott
O'Dell Award for Historical Fiction-2020)
After the first chapter or two, I wasn't so sure about this
one. However, I am glad I stuck with it. The writing is exquisite and
there are, for lack of a better expression, human touches in this
story that ring true. This tale is not too short, not too long, it is
just right. And I very much enjoyed how the author captured H's
English dialogue.
The
House in the Cerulean Sea, by T.J. Klune
This is
a gem of a story that came along right when I needed this sort of
humorous yet serious take on a life. I came away reminded of those
vital parts of what forms a gentle happiness in the heart of a
person. The writer must also know something of a child's view on
things, because the dialogue was spot on (at times, I had to squelch
my laughter so as not to wake the neighbours). Bravo!
I have no idea how to translate the German word 'Bügelverschluß' into English. It is a common closing mechanism on German beer bottles (perhaps a bit less common these days, when factories cap the beer bottles).
For the homebrewer, capping bottles involves time and expense. Over the twelve years I have been brewing, I've bought dozens (okay, almost a hundred now) of bottles of imported German beers and have saved those glass bottles with the Bügelverschluß.
In this photo, you see an old capper (I do cap some bottles to give away):
Over the years, I've been unlucky at having folks return the German bottles, so I cap the ones I present to others.
Yesterday was bottling day ... the yield was 13 Liter (a smidge below 3.5 US gallons). And I have high hopes for this one! Now it carbonates and ages for at least 2 months before I pop the top on the first bottle. I figure it will be a spring beer in that it includes German Wheat and Oregon Rye malts. I used a type of Hefeweizen yeast that accentuates the clove, and the floor-malted Vienna malt should round out what I hope is a more rustic taste profile.
The Biergeist made an appearance in the glass I poured with the amount left over after all the bottles were filled ... !
From cold to hot to cold again. Temperature changes and adjustments are the name of the game in brewing.
Here we see the wort heated to the brink of boiling ... the "hot break" is imminent ...
... and then, the foamy mass breaks and large bubbles rise to the surface. Hot Break!
This is one of my favourite expressions in German: auf (etwas) Bock haben! To be keen on (something).
Ja! It is brewing weather and time to get the Columbian grain mill out of the closet. Friends don't understand why I haven't purchased one of those new-fangled electric mills. I hand-grind my coffee beans every morning. Why would I buy a machine that makes machine noises to mill the grain with which I intend to brew ale? Adjusting the millstone and cranking by hand allows me time to go over the brewing sequence in my mind. And the mill has developed a sexy little squeak over the years. Very relaxing way to begin the brewday.
Here's the set-up in my small kitchen. Because the oven does not have one larger gas burner (only 4 small ones), I have to be creative. In the back is the main brew kettle that can hold 4 gallons. I need 5 gallons of water to wind up with 3.66 gallons of wort. So the tall kettle holds an additional gallon and the short kettle to its right holds a gallon of water slightly lower than the desired mashing temperature.
For this Bock beer, I utilized both wheat and rye malt, plus a surprise (chocolate and "special B" malts that I had cold-steeped overnight) ...
Prost!
These days, I watch people out in public. They are strangers to one another. And yet, they behave towards the other as though they have a right to show their private faces 24/7.
What I mean is that to someone of my generation (need I add of my upbringing?), showing one's public face and exhibiting a modicum of good manners used to be the way to make it through the day. A jot of humour made it all even better. Life is tough. With your friends, you can let your hair down. But out there in the world, in public amongst people who have their own share of worries and stress, I've found that being polite costs very little and helps me keep my equilibrium. Later, sitting down at the supper table, I'm able to laugh it all off.
Yet recently, I find myself having to control my blood pressure (also on behalf of others). Here is an incident I was involved in just this past week:
- At a 3-way stop, my T-RAV and a Jeep slow and arrive at our respective stop signs at roughly the same moment. Jeep-dude is to my right, so I wait for him to go. Moments pass. I realize that Jeep-dude is texting on his phone, so I slowly pull into the intersection, driving straight through, at which he perks up and slams on his gas pedal, stops in the middle of the intersection right in front of me, and makes a point of glaring at me. I employ my time-worn strategy of smiling at him like an idiot and waving. He turns right ahead of me and then pumps his brakes, over and over again until we get to the next intersection.
I have learned how to deal with these situations. The best strategy is to attempt to diffuse them, especially when you are a woman faced with a delusional white man here in the midwest. Last week, there was a report in the news of a male passenger who punched a female flight attendant in the face when she asked him to put on his face mask.
Women have their issues in public, too. The situations I've been involved in were unpleasant.
Thank you, gentle readers, for lending me your attention. I hope you know you're not alone and I'm crossing my fingers that tomorrow we all meet strangers who smile and say "please, after you!"
Upon arrival, I was greeted with three pumpkins and the delicious aroma of cabbage potato soup with Gruyère. We dug right in and I noticed that the innards of my pumpkin were quite arresting ...
following a short respite, we are trudging through another hot, humid spell here in the valley. The cicadae have ceased their singing. On the east side of the apartment building, the cosmos stalks are unruly, and thus the flowers are few this year. I'd like to believe though that next year, I'll know better how to sow the seeds.
My two new neighbours are quiet. Downstairs in B, there's a Welshman with the most delightful manner. Discussing parking arrangements was friction-free and had me smiling. When I broached the topic, his response was (prior to my actually asking whether he could do me a favour), "Ah, have I parked the car awkwardly?"
When we run into each other, he'll greet me and suddenly, we are engaged in an interesting conversation. Very unlike the "small talk" of the Midwesterners around here.
Downstairs in A, there's a young blond whose work schedule doesn't mesh with mine, hence we've not yet had occasion to introduce ourselves.
Let's see what the autumn brings ...
as the dregs of the hurricane clouds dumped rain on the valley here, this Cosmos stalk was driven to the ground. I found it the following morning and brought it up to my flat. Trimming the stalk, I placed it in a vase of water and crossed my fingers ... and the other morning, this sight greeted me!
There are two more buds ... perhaps they also will flower ...
... and suddenly, we have slid into August.
[note: I began this post about three weeks ago and then life happened.]
So here we are at dusk, and I am looking toward the sky in hopes of finding the Blue Moon (still mostly full this evening) unobscured by clouds. La Luna.
In so many European languages, the moon is feminine (grammatically speaking), yet in the German, it is der Mond (masculine) and die Sonne (feminine). Ach, those Germans!
I must admit that engaging with the new semester's start in person has led to a stimulation of my humour bone. Today, a colleague dubbed me "the lynchpin," so I figure I can inject some fun into the place this year.
Let the fun begin!
... and just like that <snaps fingers> another month of summer has sped by. I awoke this morning with a foggy head. It has been an extraordinarily hectic summer. Good friends in the midst of moving away, another good friend in hospital, and the transition from working from home to preparing the office for face-to-face interaction.
Thus I was happy to see my forget-me-not plant in bloom this morning! Myosotis stricta in full, tiny glory!
Ach, and the full moon (Thundermoon) was spectacular last night ... its reddish-gold hue peeking through the ancient sycamore branches took my breath away.
... I'm old school. So I use several styrofoam packing peanuts at the bottom of the new sleeve for drainage. Keeps them out of landfill, too. Notice that the sleeve lets in light and the slots promote airflow, both of which keep the roots a healthly green.
My ceramic pot isn't quite wide enough for the slightly larger sleeve. I'll work on finding a larger one. Orchids need a heavier ceramic pot with holes because the blooms, when they form again, are heavy enough to tip the clear plastic sleeves.
I added an aged bamboo twig already to that when the new spike forms, I can begin to guide it in that direction (and poking in a bamboo stick later runs the risk of damaging a root).
So there you have it! Keep your orchids happy with a little effort twice a year. They are beautiful and misunderstood, and with a wee bit of support from us, they will survive.
... and here we have ... the 'Plug' - a moisture trap - the soil so densely packed that no air reaches the roots. Grocery Orchids start their lives in plug pots (sometimes 72 in one tray). Too many growers then wrap them in sphagnum moss (another moisture trap), cram them into small containers with no drainage holes, and ship them to groceries stores, where they are set beneath flourescent lights until someone buys one.
Below, you are able to see the sickly corpsy colour of the roots that encircled the plug after I brickled off the wet soil ...
... a closer look as I snip off the moisture-laden, lost-cause roots with sterilized scissors ...
... the bad bits ...
... and here we are, rinsed and ready for the new pot ...
... part 3 tomorrow!
I laid the patient on the table. My second grocery-Orchid. The blooms all dropped off a few days ago, so it was high time to re-pot. This one was from a grower who at least had the decency to sell orchids in plastic pots with drainage holes in the bottom and not stuffed only with sphagnum moss. The day I brought it home, in January, I also cut several slits in the sides of the pot to provide the necessary airflow.
The blooms were purple and plentiful and long-lasting. Based on the size of this plant, I guessed it had been in the original pot too long. Sure enough, you can see in the photo above that the medium is black and old. I was delighted to see that the majority of roots were healthy. Even some of the white portions were still okay - firm to the touch and not soggy. I began by teasing out the old medium from between the roots and throwing it away.
Here, in the upper-left corner of the photo above, you see the new medium soaking. It is brown and fresh, containing bits of bark and charcoal, coconut husks, and ribbons of high-quality sphagnum moss. After rinsing the roots, I gently pressed them one by one and detached the soggy portions.
Black-coloured roots were cut off completely and discarded.
Tomorrow, I'll point out the tiny basket filled with soil beneath the crown and explain why it had to be excised.
Storm number one had just left us and the rumbles of the next were in the distance as the sun decided to begin to set ever so gently ...
... the sky to the east ...
... and the sky to the west ...
... Mother Nature sure can put on a show!
Happy Juneteenth ♪ ♫
The lab results are back from my first in-person physical in over a year, and I am healthy as a horse. My doctor was pleasantly surprised when she saw my weight. "Oh, you've lost 13 and a half pounds!" So from the last time I was in her office, pre-Covid lockdown days in early 2020, I've lost 6 kilograms (for Robbie, that is near to a stone).
"Was this planned?" she asked. I told her that I like to cook and that my diet this past year has been much more nutritious than it was before. Also, the portion size I consumed was and still is much smaller, because working from home, I stop eating when I am full and wrap up the leftovers to place into my fridge. I didn't mention that my grocery bill also benefitted. In fact, I was able to put into savings what I no doubt would have spent on eating out this past year.
So I've learned much about myself and just what I am capable of when it comes to consumption control. By the end of this year, I hope to shed another half of a stone. At which I just might be able to fit into those jeans I've been holding onto ... you know the ones way in the back of the closet.
After my once-a-month massage session, I drove to the market and bought nutritional ingredients with which to cook lunch. Have I mentioned that I've recently discovered recipes incorporating cannellini beans? I concocted an amazing soup with those beans and chard (magical and delicious). Now I have three cans in my pantry and am already pondering how to use them in the next recipe. (I guarantee you that a cannellini bean post is forthcoming.)
I stretched and then drank a bottle of mineral water this afternoon. And I cooked more nutritional dishes with broccoli and garlic.
Finally, after reading a bit, I decided to roll out my cork mat and meditate. Now, I'm going to queue Ampop's 2007 "Sail to the Moon" album and drift towards slumberland. (Ampop is a band from Reykjavík, Iceland.)
Tiger Lily - or - Daylily --- Lilium lancifolium -or- Hemerocallis ?
My sweet Mamma's bulbs have once again emerged in all their beauty. The plant's botanical name, Hemerocallis, derives from two Greek words meaning "beauty" and "day," referring to the fact that each flower lasts only one day. And I am inclined to believe my local gardner, who was firm in his identification of these as Daylilies (not Tiger Lillies). Take a look at the next photo, which shows all of the branches (these do indeed wilt overnight and then others emerge the next day).
I counted and expect about 100 blooms this year from 9 stalks!
No matter what they are called, I look forward to them each summer. And now that they are here, I feel a bit of my mother in the breeze.
I still have a penchant for Pommes. Ja, I still refer to this culinary delight with the French, not with the English term. Above, you have a photo of a hand cut (old school, with my chef's knife and cutting board) russet potato. The "potatoes to be fried in sunflower oil" are soaking in good ol' H2O for about half an hour as the oil heats up in my stainless steel pan.
Now that I'm older, I realize the soaking is necessary to extract some starch. At the time my Great-Grandmamma Anna taught me, I simply thought it was magic.
The secret to quality Pommes is to soften them in 330°F sunflower oil for about 4-5 minutes, and then to raise the temperature to about 360°F for as long as it takes to crisp them ... observe ... step 1:
step 2 - raising the temperature:
and then step 3:
... blotting the oil a bit and adding sea salt, paprika, and white pepper!
I know it is only Monday evening here in the Ohio Valley ... but I needed this!
Prost!
For days, we have had rain in the Ohio Valley (please do not read this sentence imagining me whining ... no, no ... I am pleased). Everything is green and lush. The plants, the trees, even the birds are revelling in ponds created by the rain.
It is a summer rain ... falling straight down ... speeding up, slowing and then gaining in intensity again. Beautiful. Reading the headlines about the drought in Oregon and places west, I grieve for their future. I truly hope that the wildfire season will not be more horrible as a result, although I shudder at the thought of this summer out west.
Now if only the 17-year-Cicada-brood would visit, I would be very happy indeed.
There are no tea leaves in this kind of tea.
!
It is one of my top three favourite teas from Japan. Kukicha - 茎茶 (twig tea) is a blend of twigs, stems, and stalks that is available as a green tea or as a roasted tea. The aroma is unique and I simply do not know how to describe it in mere words. In my case, my finest memories of the time I spent living in Japan include Kuki-cha. Not only the aroma, but the feel of the tea on the tongue is very special. I am transported each time I prepare a cup of twig tea.
And if the twiggy bits and sticks are derived from the luxurious Gyokuro (玉露 jade dew) tea, then your taste buds will be the happiest they've been. During my time in Japan, I lived in a city near to the Yame area, which is the main production region in Japan (40%) of Gyokuro. The highest quality Gyokuro in Japan, called Dento Hon Gyokuro, is produced there (but was too expensive for me). One of these days, I might be fortunate enough to taste a cup.
Twig tea is a joy to drink though, no matter whether it comes from the highest-quality tea in Japan or the most common. The nutty flavour and mouth-feel makes it a delight ... and that aroma! Indescribable.
After two years of cheering it on, the little one has four leaves on each side for a total of eight, and as you can see, the roots have emerged with force.
Recently, I made a house call to the home of my beloved Water Rat to minister to her ailing Orchid. A few days ago, I received news that it, too, is developing a new leaf and a rootling.
Hail Orchidae! Thou art a denizen of the rain forest, yet we of the Ohio Valley cherish thee greatly.
I stand accused of not being spontaneous ...
- Arising from a natural inclination or impulse and not from forethought or prompting.
- Unconstrained and unstudied in manner or behavior.
What an abominable week it has been (yes, I know it is only Tuesday). But I won't dwell on all the events that have caused intense displeasure and sadness. The Cosmos seeds I planted last week have begun to sprout. And those delicate little things have been enough for me to latch onto.
What is it about something so slight, so frail, that soothes in trying times?
Shutting off my troublesome 'puter in the office at the end of today's long workday, I climbed into the T-RAV and we rumbled down the road, thinking that I should cook the leftovers in the fridge for supper. But as I neared the local market, my hand switched on the blinker and I rolled into the parking lot. I knew what it would it take to perk me up a bit ... California Roll with Masago Sushi. You see, having lived in Japan, I never buy supermarket sushi (it is vile). However, at my local market, a young lady has recently been hired to make fresh Sushi several times a day. With all the horrible things happening to Asian-Americans these days, I have been certain to greet her, make eye contact with her, and then thank her as I choose my tray of Sushi from the case. This is the first time I've stopped after work though (it's usually a Saturday lunch-time treat for me), and as I entered the market, I realized that she might not be working this late. Imagine my happy surprise then when I rolled my cart towards the Sushi-station and there she was, packing up for the day. We smiled at each other (well, both wearing masks, we crinkled our eyes happily at each other) and she asked, "do you like Masago Roll"? I was delighted. She'd noticed my favourite! "Oh yes, if you have one left!" I answered. "Last two just taken," she said. Before I could respond, she told me, "I make one for you." I thanked her and she waved me off, telling me to come back." I pushed my cart around the bulk section and before I knew it, she was running towards me, handing me the specially-made 10-piece tray of Sushi Rice hand-rolled with Avocado, Crab, Cucumber, & topped with Masago! I held my hands together in non-verbal thanks according to East Asian custom and then accepted the tray with both hands. "Thank you for waiting," she said. "Oh, thank you for doing this for me," I said.
What is it about someone so slight? She brightened up my day. And back home, I thought of an immigrant's work ethic and of how she takes pride in her rolling of Sushi. I'm certain she knows quite a few of her customers' preferences, and that local market is lucky to have her. I intend to write a letter to give to the manager. One more thing, I noticed as I opened the tray that she had put the "promo price" on the label (a $1 discount). That was a very sweet thing to do.
This is a 'Moon Valley' plantling ... the shot looks a bit Picasso-esque because this little plant likes humidity, so I have a plastic hood over it (a leftover from a bouquet of flowers someone gave me last year). The texture of the leaves called to me when I made a jaunt to the local plant nursery last weekend. And then there was the adorable yellow vaseling that was on sale for a dollar because the enamel was chipped (nail files are good for this condition).
I also brought home various seed packets, which are now ensconced beneath the "grow lamp" I purchased a few months ago. Fingers crossed!
Parsley is one of my favourite culinary herbs ...
... I have a plant in my kitchen now, next to the window ... and I have a packet of seeds ready to plant, too ...
... spring is here in the Ohio Valley ... and I love the time moving slowly ... gently ...
