Sometimes I fry biscuits just because my mom used to sometimes fry biscuits. This takes patience and courage. Patience because too high a temp will leave you with a charcoal crust. Courage because you’ve got to use a lid and the condensation you will see dripping will engender horrible thoughts of soggy bread. But don’t despair, if you persevere you will have little nuggets of golden deliciousness.
The moon makes an appearance at the Washington State Fair.
My friend says my quilting always seems to precede large life changes. Maybe it’s my way of processing things I know are coming but am unready to face. I don’t know, she’s much wiser than me.
Lately though, I feel as if idle hands are a sin. Recently while puttering in the garden I had the thought that I should occupy my hands as much as possible with work that adds to my household.
Since then I’ve kept a stash of scrap material, scissors, needle, and thread in a drawer in the end table next to the love seat where I sit to watch television. This quilt is paper-pieced in the English tradition. It’s very easy but very time consuming.
Each little hexagon is a small piece of fabric folded over a paper template and basted in place.
Then each of the hexagons are whip stitched together.
It’s a lot of small steps but not complicated.
I don’t know what the future holds for me or what it is that I am working through but at least I know that I will have a quilt (something beautiful?) at the end.
At roughly $95 an ounce you would think you could get rich growing Saffron. Probably not gonna happen. Saffron is the stigma from the flower of the Saffron Crocus. Each flower produces only three of the tiny filaments and each one has to be harvested by hand. It takes about an acre and several hundred thousand plants to produce one pound of spice. That’s only $1500 an acre. It’s not a winning agricultural strategy.
But we’re going to try growing our own anyway.
We ordered bulbs from the Dutch Grown catalog and they arrived a few days ago. The instructions said to plant them as soon as they arrived. Well, we couldn’t really decide on a spot in our tiny yard. They need rich soil that is well drained. Rich soil we got. Well drained? Well, that’s a rare commodity in the Pacific Northwest. What we did have was some lumber from some crappy shelves my husband had removed from the utility room recently.
Rip, screw, and fill with compost and potting soil and voila – Saffron Crocus bed.
The bulbs go in
two four inches deep, four inches apart. Easy peasy tucked away to grow or not as they see fit. Worse comes to worst I will at least have another bed to utilize in the spring.
This little guy approves.
Just another shot cause he’s so cute.
I had two job interviews yesterday, both for the same position I hold now but at different sites. They both went well, the second maybe not quite as well as the first. I finished the day feeling like I was trying to trade my current hair-shirt for one in a brighter color. There is no joy in inauthentic living, only differing shades of discomfort.
This is the Himalayan Blackberry, or as I like to call it, the Kudzu of the Northwest. Several years ago this non-native bramble found its way into Washington state and now covers practically every non-mown square inch of land. We looked at a house here where the backyard was seriously, no lie, so packed with these things that you couldn’t go in.
This is my husband picking said blackberries while we were out riding bikes on the edge of town. I think he’s so hot when he’s out foraging food. Hahaha, he will kill me when he sees I’ve posted that he was “foraging food.”
This is the juice of those berries coupled with some sugar (ok, a lot of sugar), and some pectin.
I didn’t feel like digging out my water-bath canner so this is the pot with a folded tea towel in the bottom that I used to can the delicious black jellied bounty. One of the greatest and most discouraging myths about canning your own food, especially high acid food like jellies, jams, and pickles is that it is difficult to do and requires large amounts of equipment. It doesn’t. If more people would learn that this is not true the world would be a better place I believe. It’s tough to be mad at the world when you’re licking sweet blackberry juice off a spoon. I mean really.
And this, this is wondrousness in a jar. Gift of mother earth and some thoughtless horticulturalist. Life is beautiful and sweet if you just take the time to pick the free berries.