Just as you thought it was over

 

The flowers are fading now, except for the stout hearted Montauk daisies which wait till October to bloom and cheer up the neighbors.

And indoors there's been a Bear Escalation. A local friend has now set up her three bears, one a baby in a bib, beautiful white fancy cloth, for their teddy tea. China cups and saucers all round, small set for the baby.

So word got back and Ruth decided to up the ante at her table with a miniature cup and saucer for Ursula. Whereupon Fred ordered up a seasonal table decoration, a Montauk Daisy.

So, the battle of the  Right to Bear Teas is underway. Winner gets cake.

Anyone may join in. It's not a private fight, old joke.

Of bears and spuds

Another bear got wind of the teaparty and table crashed. He was nameless until a friend said he's Claude, the French ours en peluche. Because of the jaunty hat. He was also quick to swipe a teacup when Fred Bear was busy talking to Ursula.

Speaking of crashing, look at this

After waiting weeks for any sign of life from the potatoes I planted, I gave up on them. Didn't even dig them out before reusing the pot for a newly planted dieffenbachia. A couple of weeks in the house and it looks as if I'll get potatoes after all. It might be tricky harvesting them, but we'll see.

Light not good for picture quality, so, just the gist.

Come and frivol a bit

So, in urgent need of something that absolutely does not matter, I threw a Teddy Tea. The best Shelley china, hand-crocheted cloth, bears are the Downton Abbey of toys.

And I thought since this is one reason I buy Roma plum tomatoes, and keep lemons frozen just in case, I might as well make a little batch of Tomato lemon jam. 

I was short of sugar, so I halved the recipe, which was fine,  because I only had one jar available anyway.

Cut-out recipe from long gone cookbook, with added undecipherable notes, food stains attesting to the history of making this jam.

The boiling water I dropped the tomatoes in, to peel them,  later served to sterilize the sole jar, and, still later, was poured over the dishes in the soapy sink. Waste not etc.

And I now have a mini harvest of one jar, probably two pints.

It's very tangy, excellent on toast for tea. Or ham as a sauce. Or fish. Or ice cream or yogurt. Or a lot of things in fact.

I've usually served it without naming it, to people who would get all bent about tomatoes in jam. Then they taste it,  want more -- one guest asked if she could take some home!-- and then I tell them what it is. At this point some people look at the jar wonderingly, but my work is done.