How do people do 365-day photography challenges?  19 days has stretchhhhhhhed my creativity and excitement.

I feel pretty much done here, folks.  But I somehow feel I’m on the team, and can’t let the team down.

When I got married, my husband brought prehistoric plants from his mother to our home.  When we had a bunch of little kids, I forgot to water them, and they started dying.  He finally took them to the shop, where they thrive on little more than wood dust.  ( The story is much longer, like when he asked me if I was killing them on purpose, but I won’t bore you with the rest.)

Several years ago, my friend told me succulents were hardy (and oh, so cute!).  I bought some on clearance one summer, and they aren’t exactly thriving, but they ain’t dead, neither.

 

Just shooting away.

A friend’s simple blog post today inspired me to post a picture again.   I don’t have a problem shooting, just where to go from there.  I think too much about it, instead of just enjoying it.

I am thankful I don’t over-process what to do with a ripe tomato:  Should I enjoy it now?  Should I do something useful with it?  Nope.  Just eat it.

As I lifted my gaze towards the horizon…

…there was only salsa, as far as the eye could see.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

These are the first two tomatoes I picked from the garden.  The first tomatoes are so anticipated.  We sashay into the house with them, skip to the kitchen, fry up the bacon, and immediately gobble B.L.T.’s with abandon.

I need a steady supply of tomatoes so I don’t have to go a day without eating them in season.  Out-of-season tomatoes taste like dirt.  However, by the time the 67th tomato comes along, I have misgivings.  I still want to eat them fresh daily, but I know I need to commit an afternoon to canning them.  Canning is a good thing, I just never “feel” like it.

These feelings never prevent me from planting sixteen tomato plants, so I guess I need to buck up and get busy when the time comes.  I will try not to whine.  On the outside, at least.

 

DPP 21: Book and gardening ramblings.

When I was much younger, I used to get the seed catalogues out in February, and start dreaming of the exotic garden I would plant in the spring.  I would even start seedlings inside, and lovingly take care of them until the danger of frost was over.

No more.  My battle with drought, disease and critters has destroyed my enthusiasm, and I stopped getting Burpee’s years ago.  But I still remember the excitement of it all, and could identify with my friend who is writing an article about gardening and outdoor books, for those people who are just itching to get back in the dirt.

I was very happy to take a picture to accompany her article.  I say “happy” because any photography subject you are not accustomed to stretches your capabilities, and teaches you something new.  And that is fun, unlike sharing most of the fruits of your garden with nasty, ungrateful pests. Humph.

Totally unrelated sidenote:  Indigo Bridge, the local bookstore where I took my pictures, had some of their books wrapped in brown paper with these drawings.  Please show them to the artistic force in your family so you can decorate like this, too.

More drops in the bucket.

My sister-in-law came out with her 3 kids to pick cherries today.  It reminded me of Blueberries for Sal.  Except no one wants to snack on pie cherries.  And there were no baby bears getting separated from mama bears.

But there were plink, plink, plink sounds as little fingers dropped cherries into their buckets.  And little eyes kept peeking at the bottoms of their buckets, hardly believing they had made so little progress.

Child Number 1:  “Mom, I’m tired.  Tired of doing this.”

Child Number 2:   “Aunt Jen, can you put your cherries into my bucket?”

Sister-in-law: ” Son, can you just find 5 more cherries for your bucket?  You know cherry pie is your favorite.”

Aunt Jen, trying to be helpful:  “Do you remember the story of the Little Red Hen?” (Of course I retold the story with funny voices.)

Child Number 3:  “Mom!  I need the ladder!  Mom!  Mom!  Mom!  I have some cherries, Mom.  Mom?  Mom!”

I am sure I  smiled the whole time, reminiscing about the days when I tried to talk my own little women through harvest time.

Lord, today I am thankful.  Thankful for little hands picking cherries.

Lurking.

MCP Project 52’s theme this week was “hidden”.

I found a spider on a flower, but it wasn’t impressive.  A mushroom under a plant – blah.  Finally, I saw a baby bird peeking out of his nest at me this morning.  He quit peeking after I got my camera.

So you get my Jonathan apple, which lurks in the leaves until September, when it gets big, juicy and red.

A drop in the bucket.

Pie cherries have arrived.

I picked a gallon, and they all got thrown into a tasty cherry cobbler tonight.  After they were pitted, of course.  A “pit crew” around here has a different connotation than at the racetrack.

There are 1, 250, 653 left.  Come pick some.  I will even offer you a ladder and a cool beverage.

Preserving.

If I leave this apple on the tree indefinitely, will it freeze-dry itself?  Can Katherine pack it in her lunch?

Unfortunately, this philosophy contributed to my lack of enthusiasm about preserving all the good things I grew this year.

I keep blaming my garden listlessness on Ashley’s wedding, but I may find another excuse next year.  But no weddings!

 

 

You say potato.

My camera took fuzzy pictures today.   When I took an early morning walk with Katherine, the field was glistening with dew.  And not just glistening, but every drop was splitting the early morning sunlight into little concentrated colors of the rainbow.  I knew I couldn’t capture the whole field, but thought I could just capture a drop.  But my camera would not, could not focus, even on the macro setting.  Bah.

So today I settle for my funky garden potatoes, which may not be entirely in focus, but make me smile because they refuse to conform to normal store-bought potato shapes.

And these tomatoes, my friends, are the best way I have found to move produce from the garden to my family’s stomachs:

(Only go further if you like tomatoes)

Slice tomatoes.  Slice a bit of onion, preferably a red one, and sprinkle on tomatoes.  Sprinkle with feta or crumbled goat cheese.  Drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  Sprinkle with Italian seasoning or herb of choice (rosemary, basil…)

Eat.

I have seen Marcus almost finish off a platter of these single-handedly.  Rebecca came in a close second, and she is on the Healthy-Food Avoidance Diet.

Sidenote:  Perhaps my pictures are  fuzzy because my eyes feel rather fuzzy, too.  I have pink eye.  I thought only little kids got this.  Bah.