I found my way to the garden on a frosty morning for a quick look about and weed.
The soil was crunchy past 1/4″ down. The stirrup hoe pulling sheets of earth along. Occasionally, a saucer of soil dragging an onion from its slumber.
The weeds in the pathways look a lace pattern, their name “henbit” sounding a fit.
They, as their dandy lion neighbor, not minding the season’s change as does the persistent potatoes I was hoping to harvest for Christmas.
I’m glad my peas are delicious. Normally, I like to sauté the shoots in some butter or oil, add salt and garlic, and eat them warm.
A gardening fellow, perhaps with floppy ears or a skin-like tail, is continuously insisting they are best eaten fresh, crisp, and raw.
I’m looking at two weeks of utter free days with usual evenings before the holidays are here. Then daycare will be over and I’ll be starting a brand new use of my energies: stay at home parent.
All and any tips, guides, or suggestions very much welcome, especially if they’re for a parent who needs a balance of space and quiet, avoids shopping, and can’t eat most of the things that baking most days would create. (I’m missing baking, homemade bread, pie, and holiday cookies a lot these days, can you tell?)
The potatoes have returned from their freeze a month past.
And I’ve admitted that my current work is not healthy for me, aligned with me as a person, or necessary.
I don’t have much practice at quitting things. I hear that sticking up for yourself gets easier with practice. And practice takes starting.
Orderly interspersed with wild, chaos and creation. A balance resulting in my favorite mess.
Another freeze is expected tomorrow night. High 20s. Do I cover the green beans again?
Last time the got some burn. They are flowering now. They’ll likely burn, covered, again. And need a bit of time to try and fruit, again.
I got called a softy, again, today. He wasn’t wrong 😉
So I’ll likely cover them, again. And hope, again, for a long enough stretch of warm sunshine for a green bean bite, or three.
At least until the onions arrive and the brassicae transplants demand more space and the green beans surrender.
Some bacon, sweet peppers, and another “national yolk test” to see if we still like the eggs we regularly buy the most.
The nearest egg was the most affordable in the “all the good things” category. The palest was local and likely receives a lot more feed than nutrition from fields. The darkest yolk was also the most expensive, and not that much greater than our usual variety, so we’ll likely stay put for now.
I did learn that you can force a darker yolk by adding yellow-orange pigment to feed, so while we like to use it as a gauge on foraged and pastured hens, it’s not foolproof.