Saturday’s Haul

I can’t for the life of me, even in the HTML, fix the super bad ugly formatting below. I’ve tried for two days, and have been completely unsuccessful. Apologies in advance…

Saturday’’s Market Haul:

1.5 pint blackberries
1.5 pint black raspberries
1 pint raspberries
5 pints strawberries
4.5 pints blueberries
2 pints cherries
rhubarb
spinach
broccoli
red cabbage
green beans
basil
mushrooms (porcini, morel, honey)
squash
peppers (hot and sweet)
radishes
white turnips
sweet potatoes
peas
empanadas
scones
granola
pb cookies
pasta
eggs
milk
cream
flower bouquet
lavender

I’m steeping the cream right now to make lavender cardamom ice cream. It’s a total experiment and I have no idea what to expect. I’m steeping 1 cup of cream with 1/4 cup cardamom seeds and probably 3/4 cup lavender, with 1/4 cup sugar stirred in. Tomorrow I’ll make the ice cream. I had a ton of fun with herbal ice cream and sorbets last year–basil vanilla, strawberry pineapple sage, chocolate mint chocolate chip–I’m silly excited about how this will turn out.

As for the rest of the berry bonanza, we’re having blueberry pancakes for dinner tonight, there will be berry yogurt for breakfast all week, snacking, freezing, scones, and blueberry muffins are the current plans. I haven’t decided about the rhubarb yet.

The garden is getting huge. What started as this:

Early garden

Early Garden

Is now this:

June Garden

Hyacinth Bean Flower

June Garden

Balloon Pepper

Unknown Hot Pepper

Hope Lilies

German Chamomile

Everything is big and robust and happy. It’s been super fun to watch. We made some hot sauce out of the unknown peppers this past week, and it looks like we’ll have enough to make another batch at least. The yellow and super funky balloon peppers were started over the winter from seed. One tomato plant has one tiny fruit, which is so very exciting. The cucumbers are huge and flowering. We have a jalapeno and a cayenne on those plants, the potted herbs are plotting with the nasturtiums to take over the world, and they hyacinth beans are showing off like mad, making the purple hulle peas and cowpeas all self-conscious, but they’ll catch up before we know it.

Oh. And the fennel, that was sold to me as dill, is also ginormous. What the heck do I do with fennel?

A quick peek

In the ground:
Tomatoes (2 Cherokee Purple, Tiffen Mennonite, Omar’s Lebanese, and Billy Bob’s somethingorother)
Pole Beans (4 Purple Hyacinth, 6 Purple Hulled Peas, 6 Cowpeas)
Pickling Cucumbers (I think 18)
Hot Peppers (Jalapeno, Cayenne, Habanero, 3 Limon, 2 Balloon, and 2 unknown)
Broccoli (6)
Rainbow Chard (6)
Herbs (Sage, Italian Basil, Purple Basil, Cilantro, Parsley, oregano)
Strawberries
Nasturtiums

In pots:
Chocolate Mint (4)
Red Leaf Lettuce (6)
Bee Balm
Lavender (2)
Marjoram
Rosemary
Eucalyptus
German Chamomile (2)
Lemon Verbena
Tomatoes (2 Cherokee Purple)

On the needles:
Star Cross’d Love (rav link)
Dishcloths (I’m half way through my 4th)

That’s a whole lot of happy.

Old home revisited

I walked up to Georgetown today to return a jacket to Patagonia that I loved, but could not justify. I bought it during their huge sale thinking it was a parka. It was the perfect red. It fit really, really well. But it was a shell, not a parka, and I have something like that so I had to take it back as soon as possible so I wouldn’t keep this thing that wanted but did not need.

I walked up M Street. This is a walk I used to do daily when I carpooled with a friend who worked in Georgetown. It felt a little like going back in time, walking up that road. A little bit of old home that I never knew was home at all. I passed Zeds, where BF and I once had really good Ethiopian food back when I was working on the farm. We had gone to meet and old friend of his who happened to be in town on business. She was there with her coworkers, all of them dressed in their business niceness, and I was in jeans and a tank top with my fingernails stained black from a day working the transplanter. Someone suggested we share a vegetarian plate (you eat Ethiopian with your hands) and I just kind of looked at my hands, looked at them, and tried to offer them an out. They didn’t care. It was a delicious, relaxed meal and really nice company. I passed by Miss Saigon, where a friend and I went to dinner one night after getting haircuts together. I passed the salon. I passed the firehouse. I thought about when I carried the three-tier stout cake that way from my friend’s office to mine, and the way the firemen had all ogled the cake (not me). I rediscovered a yarn store I had forgotten was there.

Walking back, I came to the bridge that crosses over Rock Creek Park, and I approached the same homeless man that I used to see every day when I made this walk 2 years ago. He was deep in political discussion with someone, like he always used to be, newspaper in his lap. That year I watched him as a talkative, engaging man in the summer and then wither with the seasons into a blanket wrapped pleading bum in the winter. I would always stop and buy him coffee and something to eat, hoping to do something to make a bright spot, add a bit of warmth, to his bitingly cold day.

I pulled a dollar out of my wallet and placed it in his hands as I walked by. He looked me in the face, smiling and graciously thankful. I smiled back and continued on. He probably doesn’t remember me; he sees thousands of faces a day. Though I was sorry to see him in the same spot in life, it felt good to remember him, to give him a reason to smile.

Next?

I’ve been really deep in my own head lately. It seems too personal to share, feels futile to talk about, and is just encompassing and overwhelming.

I started my new job with the hope and excitement that we all start new jobs with. I knew when I took the position (as it’s the same position as my last hell gig) that it is not something I want to do with my life. Hell, it’s not something I particularly enjoy, and it is not personally fulfilling in any way. But it got me back into the nonprofit world. A world with meaning. A world where the mission gives back, even if the work does not.

I was right. The mission does give back some. The dysfunction is also mind boggling. I am constantly astounded by the way things “work” here. I know that being more involved in direct program work would make a world of difference in my tolerance of the chaos, and I did come to this place because there will be room for movement with time. But, right now, I don’t know quite how to process it all and make it a positive thing. I’m not good at rolling with it, and feeling this enormous sense of being disheartened is making every small chaotic explosion that occurs something much, much bigger to me.

I’m frozen with the sense: This can’t be all. This is not all there is. I want to do more than this.

I don’t feel cut off from possibility. It’s the opposite—I find the amount of possibility out there overwhelming. I don’t trust myself to choose well, or choose correctly. None of my big Make A Huge Change plans have worked out. I’ve learned a lot of really valuable lessons, and I know that life is a series of steps—not a destination point—but I would really like to start proceeding with less major lessons and more day-to-day happiness and confidence. Does that happen?

I’ve been having this conversation for years. What next? What now? How do I choose? I’m tired of having it with myself. I think others are tired of hearing it from me. More and more when I try to talk out loud about it, I feel like I’m faced with others’ judgment and interpretations, and not supported by people who actually hear me or want to help me sort it through. “People make life changes all the time. There’s no reason you can’t just start over.” (Is it really that easy?) “You haven’t liked a job for as long as I’ve known you. I don’t even think you liked one before I knew you.” (So I decide not to like my work, or I create bad workplace situations?) “You just need to move back home and do this or do that!” (As much as it would be nice to be closer to you, and as attractive as that sometimes sounds, it will not solve my problems.) “If you moved someplace with a lower cost of living…” (Cost of living is irrelevant. I still don’t know what I want to do. And, I live on the super cheap.) Maybe I’ve talked about it too much. Maybe it’s just my defensiveness. Maybe it’s just that I’m so stuck.

There is so much possibility. How do I take a possibility and make it possible? And what if it all goes wrong? And where do I find the time to research the possibility and start moving forward? “Making” time isn’t simple.

Round and round I go, a whirlpool in my head, tiredness in my body, and reaching to find a piece that I can call a foundation to start building my Next upon.

Happy things

Please pardon the appearance of this post. Nothing that I did made it look less than like complete ass and I gave up. Cheerio!

There’s so much to write about, and so few pictures taken to show you what I’m talking about! I’m a bad blogger.

The garden beds are in and the plan has been created. I am just so excited! We’re doing tomatoes, hot peppers, beans, black-eyed or purple-hulled peas, cucumbers, chard, lettuce, radishes, carrots, herbs, and maybe some other stuff that I’m not remembering. This weekend we’ll get the fertilizer and lime mixed in and the plants and seeds in the ground. I scared a bunny out of the strawberry patch yesterday, so we’ll have to put some fencing around the beds once everything is in. Marley would love to be on 24/7 bunny patrol, but I don’t think the neighbors would appreciate it so much. I also potted some Euphorium with the Tiny Hope Lilies that came back from last year, and put an adorable row of potted angel wing begonias and scented geraniums along our front walk. They make me so happy to see them when I pull up to the house.

I went to MDSW with the farmer and her sister, and oh my we had so much fun. It was a perfect day. I’ll post more about that with pics of the yarn I bought next post.

BF went out to do more morel hunting the mid-week after we found the last haul. He came back with about 75 more (and no ticks this time). We’ve been eating really, really well. When you click to make that bigger, notice the can of Dale’s Pale Ale (which is so very tasty) for size comparison.

The pink blob grows larger each day. Here it is, hard at work creating process flows. I’m doing an extra set of increases, and then I’m on to the straight rows. It actually has some length now, so I feel like I’m making progress. I need to find some time to really hunker down and spend a few hours on it so I can get it done. My niece’s birthday is in June, and she’d like polka-dotted mittens, a striped scarf, and then I’d like to replace the two hats that I had made her and she grew out of. I think I’m setting myself up for failure on that deadline again… 40 minutes a day of knitting time really doesn’t accomplish things very quickly. But, if I could get the scarf and mittens done, I’d be happy.

You’re over the imaginary line

I’m small, so I always get the sprawlers plopping down next to me on the Metro. You know what I’m talking about—those people who sit down, spread out their arms and legs, spread out their newspapers, squish you further into the corner of your seat than you already were, scoff at ideas of personal space, and hinder any chance of even slight movement. Sometimes the flailing pointy sticks are a deterrent. Not today.

Today, I think the sprawling excuse may have been long legs, but this bloke slid himself down into the seat at an angle, so he was partly over the not-so-imaginary line on my side of the seat. There are very obviously two seat cushions there. A visible divider. But it didn’t matter. I really think I heard a vacuum seal go WHOOOOOSH as he quickly lowered himself in and settled into his/my space with his newspaper.

As always, I was knitting. Knitting requires arm movement. He was partly on my seat cushion. Every time I grazed his side with my elbow, which was tucked in to my side because I was trying to make myself as small as possible and avoid contact, the guy would visibly flinch and cast a glance my way. I do mean the word graze. I was not poking or being forceful in any way.

I contemplated saying something to point out that it was impossible to make myself any smaller and that he was clearly over the line, but then I had visions of childhood car trips where I had to sit in the middle, feet straddling the “hump”, while my sisters got the more ample, comfortable outside space and boy how that got me steamed. Steamed with volume. My voice is probably still ringing in my parents’ ears. So, I felt childish. Justified, but still childish. And besides, he had a sneezing fit about 5 minutes into the trip that resulted in much nose honking, and I decided best not to make him aim in my direction with some instigating conversation.

When I did tuck my knitting back into my bag, he actually took notice, inquired if this stop was mine, and politely got up to let me out. Go figure.

I’m on the 5th increase repeat of the pink blob. It’s coming along… slowly.

Clenching is expensive

So I just got back from yet another visit to my dentist. We’re buds, the dentist and I. I trust him implicitly, despite our rocky history. Do you know the back story? I don’t think I’ve told you.

Well, I did the very scientific search for a dentist by looking in the provider directory at the offices closest to my work and calling the list until I found an office where I could make an appointment fairly quickly. That was this guy. I walked in, he did a whole health history—I mean sitting down with me, asking questions, going through the forms I filled out. I was impressed. And then he says my full name out loud. He says, “That name has a lot of meaning for me.” I had all I could do not to groan out loud. Here we go… “Well,” he says, “my daughter shares your first name.” Ok. That wasn’t bad. “And your last name. My favorite patient ever had your last name. Are you related to a Margaret?”

The wheels start churning in my brain. Margaret? Margaret. Grampy had a sister named Margaret. Margaret lived in DC. Holy crap YES I AM RELATED TO HER. We were both floored. He said he gave her her beautiful smile. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was a nasty old bat that we never saw smile, and the bond was formed.

So today I went in for a filling, and came out with impressions done to get a mouth guard. Um?

My last job was very, very stressful. Over the course of my last job, I knew that I had starting clenching my jaw at night. I used to just clench my fists, but my stress level had risen to a whole new level, and so I would not only with the little half moon fingernail imprints in my palms, but with a sore jaw, too. Double the goodness!

Clenching has taken its toll. He mentioned it when I first walked in, that he could see the damage to my teeth. Then, I asked about the space that has formed between my relatively new crown and the next tooth. He did the impressions. I go back in 3 weeks.

The picture has nothing to do with anything. I just like it.
There’s more of the pink blob of clapotis, but it’s kind of boring to show.
We also got another 30 ticks off the dog. The poor thing doesn’t want us to come near her anymore.

(Btw, I love his staff, too. Both of the nurses and the front desk person that see me are amazingly nice, upbeat, personal, caring, they follow up on promises, and they remember who I am and what’s going on when I go in or when I call. They’re also good with the payment plan, since the doc stopped taking insurance. (I can still get reimbursed, I just have to pay up front.) I might knit them all pretty scarves for Christmas. )

Happy Free Cone Day!

It’s Ben and Jerry’s Free Cone Day. I haven’t had Ben and Jerry’s in a good, good long time. I used to go every year, but I haven’t worked near one in a spell. It was good to be back in the ‘hood and have some midday chocolate therapy on a sugar cone.

The Clapotis will not be done for the April 30 deadline. Not by a long shot. But, I’m making some progress. See? The pink blob is bigger! I have not yet ordered more yarn. We won’t celebrate the birthday immediately, so hopefully I can buy some yarn, buy some time and still make it before it’s noticeably late.

The yarn arrived yesterday for Picovoli and the Honeymoon Cami. Must. Not. Succumb.

In very exciting news, I’m going to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival for the first time this year and I’m sooooo excited. I’m definitely going with the farmer I work for, which should be SO FUN. She’s the type of good energy that makes me feel like a mooch to be in her presence because I KNOW I’m not giving back as much as I’m getting. I’M SUCKING YOUR ESSENCE! A friend from the last gig that I’d be thrilled to hang out with and BF may come along too. BF said he’d come if they had lamb chops, I think trying for inappropriate, but oh boy do they. (He also wants to go see Lynn Rosetto Kasper of Splendid Table speak at the farmers’ market, so we’ll see what wins out.)

In the Great Tick Debacle, 2008, we pulled another 50 or more ticks off of Marley last night. Those little, tiny, pencil-point size ones really suck. Ha. Bad unintentional pun. BF found a bunch down the length of her tail, we both found clusters of them in her paws, and there were still more in her backside hair that we so affectionately call her “Farrahs” because they look like Farrah Fawcett’s bangs from the olden days. Poor girl. BF did call the vet, who kind of just said that these things happen. We did the right thing with the quick removal, and any sickness would show up with time. Lyme is unlikely since they’re lone star ticks, thank goodness. We’ve already done that once thankyouverymuch.

Gardens and Mushrooms and Ticks, OH MY!

It was another busy weekend. I don’t seem to know how to have any other kind.

Saturday I went and help set up at the farmers market, and then socialized for another 3 hours. I was back at my home market after working a different one all winter. I’ve come to love the winter market, the people there, working with BF, and I thought I’d be really sad to leave it. Part of me is, but then part of me is giddy with joy to see the friends from my home market that I have missed all winter. My cheeks hurt from smiling by the time I left. And there was asparagus and strawberries! YUM.

After market we worked about 160 lbs. of compost into the 2 raised beds. It’s probably not enough, but it’s a good start. BF sent the soil samples off to the cooperative extension today, so we’ll see what they say. We broke the hoe (oh, that sounds bad), so BF used the smoothing rakey thing while I used a hand hoe to work it in. Ow. We’re so tickled to have it done though. Next week we’ll get some plants from the market and get them in the ground. I’ve already got rosemary, lavender, lemon verbena, chocolate mint, pineapple sage, tarragon, thyme, and basil ready to go. We have a bay tree and marjoram that have survived in pots over the winter, and I have oregano that comes back every year already peeking up and saying hello. I’m contemplating a bit of a tea garden this year. I have chamomile seeds (and some others that I can’t really remember right now) that I think I’m going to stick in a pot and see what they do.

The raised beds are where the stump was from the tree that fell on the house. See, stump removal is a rather misleading way to describe what they do with the stump. They actually grind it up with the existing dirt to create a woody mulch pile. Mound. Hill. In the middle of the back yard. And then you get to decide what to do with the hill. We made a garden because, honestly, we had no other ideas.

Saturday was rounded out with friends coming over for a few beers. It was a good day.

Sunday we slept in and then set out to do some morel mushroom foraging. BF has been doing his research and chose a location that wasn’t too far away. I can’t tell you where because OH BOY did we score big. We ventured from the path into a wooded area and looked at the trees around us. We didn’t really see the elms or tulip poplars that the morels are supposed to grow around. We were set to give up and get back on the trail when I happened to look down. “Oh, oh, oh look what you just stepped directly over!!” Two beautiful morels poking their heads above the leafy cover that BF had just missed with his booted size 13s. Bliss!

Despite the dreary weather, the setting was gorgeous. There were rolling hills with a wide variety of trees (blooming dogwoods, evergreens, elms, oaks, poplars, and who knows what else.) all bursting into spring. There were wildflowers blooming, and we even saw two owls! There was a horse event taking place, so folks on horseback dotted the hills. This was someplace we wouldn’t have gone if not for the foraging, so it was a really pleasant surprise to find it filled with so much beauty. And, we ended up with about 164 morels. Our record before that was, I think 8. Yes, I typed that correctly, 8.

We spent two, maybe more, hours in that spot finding morel after morel. There were veins of them, leading us in one direction, then another. MarleyQ was as patient as she could be with us, occasionally trying to sneak off, but spending a good portion of the time sitting next to us or lying in the leaves and dirt, panting and finding ways to make her presence known. We noticed the time, decided we had a good haul for our outing and very reluctantly got back on the path because we knew THERE WERE MORE OUT THERE. Click to make these bigger…

We also ended up with something even more unexpected…

Marley, in her eternal patience, sat herself in a nest of ticks. Lone star ticks. Nymph stage lone star ticks. We were in the parking lot for a good 45 minutes pulling freckle-sized ticks off of her belly. Soon we realized it was much more than we could possibly tackle in the parking lot. We loaded her in the car, got home, stripped at the front door and threw our clothes and backpacks right into the washer, and threw her in the tub. I scrubbed her, conditioned her, and then we had her on the floor with all the overhead lights on and lamps with the lampshades removed placed strategically around us while we combed, tweezed, plucked, and pulled hundreds of ticks off of her body. Most were on her back end—you know, where the hair is really long and thick. The poor girl fell asleep while we, for two hours, went over every square inch of her body. (Did you know dogs can have freckles? So cute! Don’t try to tweeze them off.) This morning we found a few more, and we expect that will continue for a bit. Gross.

Now our skin is crawling and we’re both completely paranoid about every tickle, itch and pinch that we feel. I know there are more on me. Somewhere. Hiding. Sucking my blood. I know it. But jeez, dinner was really, really good last night. And BF is going back for more on Wednesday.

Casting on again

I cast on for the clapotis. I know, I know… cheating on Tubey already. But there’s an April 30th deadline! Stop laughing. It’s also 84 degrees in DC today and my main project is a long-sleeved sweater. Let’s talk about my planning skills here. Oh wait, there’s nothing to say because I DON’T HAVE ANY. I have whims. Oh well.

Anywho, this is the Clapotis nub that I have done. This is the progress I have to show for my morning metro ride. Pretty pathetic, hey? It’s in Artyarns Regal Silk, color 112. I have 4 skeins, and I’m afraid it won’t be enough. My friend is big boned and broader than average, and so I may need to do an extra repeat or two. This may be where I should mention that the tag on the yarn specifically says, “This yarn is Hand Painted. No two dye lots are identical. Be sure to purchase enough yarn.” I’m choosing to ignore that right now. (I’m sure I’ll be sorry later.)

Of course, that Knit Picks order should be arriving any day, and I got yarn for those other projects, too… I sense a big case of ADD heading my way.