shoulda listened to my Mom

The day after I buy two pounds of michigan cherries to make a cherry lavender pie I discover that my Mom was correct.


When she came down for a visit and we wandered around the newly purchased property-- she pointed to plants that she recognized from her gardening experiences. She said, "Sweetie that's a cherry tree." I, smart mouth brat that I am said, "Nunt uh--It's crab apple; if those are cherries--well then I am tall svelte rock star." We moved on-- exploring and poking and trying to keep stupidawg under control.

Yesterday while I waited for the electrician to hook up the hot tub (It's still a cold tub--the heater died in transport.)-- I cleared brush (hey I'm presidential!!) and I dragged the never ending garbage outta the woods. This sweaty hair tangling in the branches work got me close enough to said fruit bearing tree to realize that I was standing on 20 thousand little mushballs with a slippery marble implanted in them. "Self" I said to myself, "Crabapples do not have pits. Nor do they smell like cherries." I had to admit my mamacita was correct.



Next year we pay attention and harvest our cherries BEFORE they turn into bird food. I'll send Izzy up the tree like the little monkey she is and we shall have nummy cherries. For those of you intrepid readers..yes I tasted one..tangy but highly edible. And waaaay better that the most horrible tasting berry in the world which is still unidentified. Carol and I think it might be a sloe berry and that it won't ripen until after the frost. all I know is when I tasted it every instinct in my brain said "spit!!... spit now!!"

Fresh paint

We left the chips up for a week. Three outta five residents liked "Sweet Honey", one vote for Spicy Pumpkin (Isabel) and one for Dandelion (z.) We spent the bulk of the weekend painting.


I am pleased. Now...onto the drapes. MISSION: Cotton velvet-- lined and properly hung.

Book Report

Did you ever get a book from the library and realize that you should have bought it?

I think I have a new hero. Last spring Barbara Kingsolver was on NPR discussing her new non-fiction book (I haven't read any of her fiction--she was on the Oprah List & that takes some serious pushing for me to get over--sounds like one of them is Mosquito Coast-ish which was very engaging

--but I digress let's stay on topic. The topic dear reader is local food.

She has an asparagus bed--and morels--I am inspired and share her concern about the food we buy, grow and devour--despite bristling at her phrasing "feel like a Wiccan" when the UPS guy "catches" her making cheese. Okay a.) I want to make cheese and b.) some of my dearest friends are Wiccan and frankly she doesn't seem to be helping dissolve any misconceptions with that little adjective bomb. However she can turn a phrase and her metaphor simplifying our carbon footprint into drinking a quart of motor oil has stuck in my head.

She is just trying to help us remember what's in season.

INSERT PERSONAL ANECDOTE SUPORTING CONCEPT:

I get a produce box from Door to Door and I may be switching from that company soon because I had gullibly believed it was local--till I got papaya and pineapple (dear readers will remember) that I am pretty sure were not grown in Michigan--Kingsolver labeled these well travelled fruits--"the Hummers" of the nutrition world.