Return to life, apologies to Dickens

 Yesterday was like this

And here's today

Windows open, out early,  tending to seedlings. I've removed the crates now, so I needed to put squirrel deterrent in place.

The peppermint essential oil is not peppermint food flavoring. That won't work at all. It's therapeutic grade, expensive and worth it.

It doesn't hurt anyone. Squirrels and other small mammals just hate and avoid it. Birds are indifferent. So let's hope my newly peeping Italian basil survives, along with the others. If all else fails I can buy plants, but I do like adventures with seeds, too.

And yesterday, after an afternoon of warnings of severe thunderstorms and mayhem in the sky, a bit of rain, then this

Fading quickly, gone a minute after the second photo.

And here's why I often don't bother dressing salads

The beauty of a ripe tomato, glistening with juice and sunshine. Fresh greens, bit of cheese, wholewheat pita with it. To me, it doesn't need anything more.

Like walking. I abandoned listening to books or music on my walks years ago,  when I realized there was already so much to see and sniff and observe, without being distracted. There's plenty. 

Some days I have trouble remembering this when I read about other people's families and partners and travels, such rich and connected lives compared to mine. 

Then I remember that I'm only seeing from the outside, and don't know all their lives and their wishes and dreams. 

I know my neighbor sees my life as idyllic because I can make art and can live alone, two things he longs for. He doesn't see inside it. So I need to remember: I have plenty to enjoy.  Play on!

Supper from the Farm, blissful

Today was farmshare day, and after the usual mad blur of washing and brushing and scraping and chopping and slicing and steaming and freezing, and sorting, my reward was a wonderful fresh dinner.

 Quarter of a totally ripe cantaloupe, doused with ginger powder and a scoop of plain yogurt over with a bit of honey, good stuff, trailed over.  After a dish of tomatoes, diced, salted with kosher salt, peppered with freshground black pepper, left to mellow for an hour.

Then a nice glass of red wine, Yellowtail Shiraz.  Afterwards a cup of strong coffee.  I find that caffeine in the evening doesn't bother me at all, in fact I sleep better, so I don't need to deprive myself.

Perfect early Fall meal, cool day with bright sun.

The Dollivers Get in a Jam

Tomato and lemon jam, to be exact.  Call Me Michelle and Bette Davis stood on their diva rights and refused to join the kitchen squad.

But Blondie Firstborn, NameMe and Dreads, kitted up in their kitchen whites, set to to make this year's tomato and lemon jam.
The recipe, which I've changed many times since I first used it, an Amish one which doesn't mind tweaking, is for six half pints of jam, but I make three whole pints, why not.

  

Then with the able assistance of Dollivers, stationed at various point, we sterilized all my  Mason jars, three, that is, 

zested the lemon using my handy zester, out on its maiden voyage, and very good it is, then sliced the remaining lemon. The recipe says to just slice, but I find the outer skin goes tough in the jam, so this will be better.

Then simmered the tomatoes in the huge pot I use about once a year, add in a packet of liquid pectin, and the lemon, zest, slices, everything, 

and boil it a bit before adding in the sugar and getting it to an unboildownable boil.

At this point I remember each year why it's important to have a huge pot, doesn't bear thinking what would happen if it didn't have room to boil out of all control like this.

And we have three lovely jars of jam, setting up nicely.  And three Dollivers proudly showing their kitchen expertise before leaving me to deal with a mountain of dishes.. they complaining also about being tired, though.

The cook's privilege is to eat the last little bit out of the pan, and wow was it good. Very tangy, more interesting than fruit jams, great for breakfast.  But now I have to make hot biscuits to go with.