Here it is; another example of the family’s chef wannabe. He really does plate the meals well. Everything is aesthetic as well as delicious.
Salmon. Yum.
Those are an odd hybrid tomato on top of the platter. They’re Kum-atoes, or a crossbreed of kumquat and tomato. I didn’t grow them; they jumped off the shelf into Chuck’s grocery cart.
It’s great to live in a town where creativity abounds and non-traditional art forms can thrive. On our most recent Fun Day Friday lunch, Amigo and I encountered yarn bombs. Yarn bombs, for the uninitiated, are knitting pieces in public places. We saw a few lampposts with “sweaters” on, benches with slats in different colors and textures, and more.
Ugli doll? Mr. Potato or Eggplant-head?
It’s great when Amigo can enjoy the piece of art work, too.
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! Its —
It’s a daisy and a snake!
Guerrilla gardening, yarn bombs on the Avenue, what else could happen? I’ll keep my eyes peeled for moss graffiti.
In earlier posts, I shared the saga of the antique family bible and how it came to our home. The original owner received the bible on her wedding day. Chuck dug into his records and confirmed the date, the bride, the groom, and the immediate family. He also confirmed that she lived in several locations including upstate New York, Nova Scotia, and eventually Wisconsin. She is buried (are you sitting down?) less than a mile from our home in Riverside Cemetery.
We thought a reunion photo would be appropriate.
Elizabeth, your bible and your history are in good hands.
Elizabeth (Locke) Dane, Died 1835
One of the many advantages of having Chuck home on vacation- he cooks. And I mean he cooks. If I’m Rachel Ray with my thirty-minute meals, he’s the Iron Chef.
Full Points for Presentation!
The Main Dish: Swordfish
Side dishes and Beverage
Dessert: crowned with Door County cherries
Eat your hearts out, people; he cooked all week.
I showed off the guerrilla walking onions already. They are bigger than ever. I mentioned that sometimes guerrilla gardening can be done intentionally with moss graffiti or seed bombs. I don’t know how this happened.
Me: Honey, is this parsley or cilantro? Chuck: It’s tomatoes.
He was right. There is parsley growing in this pot, but it’s getting overwhelmed with tomatoes. I must have spilled a few seeds or reused a little already-seeded soil.
So what kind of tomato is it?
I’ll help narrow it down. I had seeds for cherry, Roma, and beafsteak tomatoes. I honestly don’t know what kind of tomato decided to sneak itself into my parsley. Readers? Assistance please.
While I wait, I’ll see if that chocolate and peanut butter combination really works.
Here we go again – it’s all good this thyme. Er, time. The Farmers’ Market has begun!
The Haul, Week One!
Poor Chuck. He said, “You’re taking a picture?” As if he should have any doubts!
It wasn’t an endangered species. It wasn’t the only tree in the area. It provided a little shade, but it also over-shaded another tree so much that the other tree grew asymmetrically. Then, finally, came the construction.
To make room to install the new utilities, the tree gave up the roots on one side. To make room for the curb and gutter, more of its roots were decimated. Then the sidewalks were repaired and replaced on the other side, leaving clipped off roots sticking almost straight up. The water/gas leak/disaster took away the root system on a third side. The remaining roots, also near the road, were so bad I’ll spare you the picture. There wasn’t much left to hold the tree in place.
Then the heavy equipment operator knocked down the cable to our neighbor’s home. We don’t know if it happened during the damage or the replacement, but the tree lost a large branch and began to split on the road side.
The city forester agreed; it was time to take the tree down. It was no longer safe, and it was likely to rot or get infected due to the overwhelming damage.
Take it down!
Later, the stump crew came. He had the foresight to put up a tarp to protect the stump’s privacy. Okay, okay, I know, he was really blocking the chips and sawdust from flying around.
the great barrier
And there you are, readers. The tree is gone, and we’re relieved. The city will plant a smaller one in a better spot so it doesn’t invade our sewer lateral or force a move of the service walk to the street.
Last weekend we delivered Amigo to his annual week at camp. Just being there felt good. I enjoyed the calmness as we drove along the country roads, past the sparsely populated areas and the small river.
Meanwhile, we threaded our way through a nearby small town and took a break for a photo op. I redid a photo I’d taken before in a better quality look.
O.K. by me!
So on we drove, back to our homestead, the sort-of cityscape of the O.K. Chorale.
Meanwhile, readers, if you happen upon a photo opportunity with a large O.K. label, please send me a copy! I’m sure there are more of these places outside of Tombstone. Right? O.K.
I’ve been shredding mountains of papers, including foothills of ancient tax records, aged bankbooks from when banks used actual passbooks, receipts for various long-ago purchases.
One peak in this mountain range seems to be medical. Those EOBs (Explanation of Benefits from the insurance companies) tell stories of their own. I found:
I learned a few things.
I shredded checkbook registers, a few old checks, and bank statements. And I said to myself:
But those are stories for another time, in another venue.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the homestead known as the O.K. Chorale, I just keep shredding, shredding, shredding.
We took a tangent on the basement clean-up. The major cleaners will be here Tuesday to clean up the silt and dirt from the water disaster. Then they’ll set up professional size fans and dehumidifiers and leave them running to dry the walls. If the walls could talk right now, I’m sure they’d be asking for dry clothes and a little dry weather, too.
Chuck unearthed two aging file cabinets – full file cabinets. He went through them and sorted the contents into recycling and shredding. The shred crates are rather full.
To Be Shredded
By the process of estimation (actually from experience feeding pages of old tax returns through the shredder), I’ve determined that one grocery bag of shred equals about three full files. Look at the above crate again. Then look below.
Shredded! It’s shredded!
I leave a little space at the top so I can staple the bag shut. That way, my shredded old resumes won’t be flying around the neighborhood when the truck picks up and dumps the big blue bin.
I’ve already tossed three grocery bags of shred into the bin. We have many more to go. What do you think, peoples? Are there other uses for shredded paper? Before I start sneaking bags of paper into my neighbor’s bins, leave me a note with an idea or two.