Wife, writer, tinkerer, grower of food. I'm happiest outside our rambling farmhouse with a basket looped on my arm, picking dinner from the garden. That's joy right there. Please follow along; I'm so glad you're here!
Many many things have happened since I checked in here last Wednesday. I have canned and frozen many many pounds of tomatoes. We had a frost scare last week (about as terrifying as a bomb scare, in the early September garden) and I spent all evening covering things up, and all the following morning folding and shaking out my sheets and towels and blankets... sigh. I dug the rest of my potatoes. Altogether, the 45 linear feet I planted, harvested, fill three five-gallon buckets. What was I thinking? I am giving lots away, which feels good, and will still have plenty to see us through winter.
Everything green is exploding, from all the rain we've had. Kimchee making is a definite possibility, this week.
The weedy garden edge has been dug out and planted with sun-loving perennials, and that feels good.
My parents came for dinner last week, and all we needed was basil, arugula, sliced fresh mozzarella, a basket of toasted bread, and a GIANT bowl of salted fresh tomato slices. THAT was a good meal. There was also gazpacho, and mom's blueberry buckle with ice cream. Yup. Yup, yup, yup.
The most exciting thing to happen pertains to our Binghamton house, however. It's far from a done deal, yet, but an offer has been received, and countered, and countered, and countered, and finally, thrillingly, accepted. Such a sweet word, that word. Such sweet relief, after months and months of paying for it, and worrying about it, and showing it (just a few times) that we're this close to being free from it.
Keep your fingers crossed for us, friends. I'll write more when things are firmer, but for now, it's back to stirring the tomato pot and daydreaming about a little trip, or a new car, or a new kitchen, or maybe all three...