Winning Caption

So I put out a call for captions for the girls' photoshoot. I got many variations on a theme (you'll see), but one submission rose above the rest.

The winning submission:

Thanks, Dad!

Hot Chicks for your viewing pleasure

Perhaps the cutest thing we've ever seen.

Erik and I held a photo shoot for the girls in our bathroom. They were perfect models, though clearly quite confused by the sudden change of address. We just finished photographing them and have not yet had time to cook up witty captions. This is where you come in. Please post your best, and I'll stick them here (with attribution, of course!).

Don't give up....

First, let me say, I've been Berry, Berry bad.

Just about 2 months have passed since the last post. We have a trellis. We have a trellis. Refresh button. We have a trellis. Still a trellis. 

So I ask you Chive me no more . . .

And Lettuce be friends . . .

. . . and put the Chard times behind us . . .

. . . and Peas

peas, 
PEAS! Forgive me for my inattention.

Believe me, it's bugged me too.

It's no excuse, but I've been Romaine around the globe pursing other adventures.

Specifically, I went to Kenya for a couple weeks to direct a documentary on people stretching.  (And I know that's not Romaine.)

Also, my work life has been tumultuous (New York Times want to shut us down? What?) to say the least, and my Papa had to get surgery (he's A-OK now).

In short, I've Bean busy.

The good news is that our gardens haven't suffered, only the garden of www.citylovescountry.com. And the garden of your curiosity about this patch of Medford, MA dirt. And the garden of my really bad puns hath become overgrown like the garlic,

 -- nay, it hath blossomed into this ridiculous apology post.

There is much to write about and show now that spring has spring with such force.  Consider this a preview postcard of things to come. I won't abandon you again. Until I do.

Feline any better?

It's cold, and I'm being a baby.

Cold outside. How unusual for New England in December.

So why does this somehow shock me each year? We built cold frames to anticipate, what? July? Well, this blog post was supposed to be a blog boast about how friggin' cool the cold frames are because my lettuce and radishes and turnips are all still growing! And it's 16 degrees out there!

Last night, we had dinner with friends, and brought a spinach salad. Before getting in the car, I pulled up three gorgeous radishes and brought them with us for dinner. They were a hit.

Next year, now that I know that these cold frames work pretty well, I'll try to plan better and plant more winter crops in early October. That way, they have 2 full months of good growing weather before it gets beastly outside, at which point they can just hang in until their dinner time cometh.

When I'm feeling like less of a baby, I'll go out there and take some pictures.

But for now, I'll just change the subject.

Argentina, anyone?

I just wanted to share two pictures I liked from my reunion with black and white film and my Leica. (You can click on them to enlarge them.) The first is of the caregiver of a vineyard and her son right before nightfall. The sky was dynamic and forbidding, and this child was so full of light and love.


And this picture is from the 106,000 acre estancia where Erik and I stayed for two glorious days with Walter and his incredible family. This is his daughter, Delfina, asleep on a sunny and perfect summer afternoon, in her father's pickup truck. I took this picture to try to capture something - that the world, this existence, is caring for us in each moment. It holds us, and holds up life's richness, and we are all, throughout our lives, just children.

Grape idea!

('dem are some pretty grapes.)

Steve (the farmer/neighbor with the gigantic garden) grew them and suggested I take all I want because he leaves them for the birds. I've been taking him at his word and stopping by regularily to keep our house supplied with bowls full of beautiful concord grapes.

Today when I got home from work and was contemplating whether or not to go to yoga, I stood gazing out my kitchen window absent-mindedly nibbling on a bowlful when inspiration (or laziness) struck: it was time to make grape jelly.

Twenty minutes later, I was back in my kitchen with about five pounds of grapes and high hopes. This is the process:

Step 1: Admire grapes.
Step 2: Rinse grapes.Step 3: Pick stems off grapes (but don't try to be perfect, or you'll stand at the sink all day)Step 4: Stick the grapes in a blender and blend.Step 5: Line colander with cheesecloth (or have another great idea for how to separate the skins and seeds from the juice. I'm open to suggestions.)(I then secured the rim with a rubber band to keep the cheesecloth in place.)

Step 6: Pour grape goo into colander over pot to collect the juices.Step 7: Wait a very long time for this to drain.
Step 8: Get bored and manually squeeze the goo through the cheesecloth. This feels like squishing a full bladder wrapped in a washcloth. I'm guessing here.

Steps 9-?: (These steps are similar the end stages of the peach jam -- see that blog posting for more detail if this is confusing)

Add sugar to the juice (I added about 2 cups, perhaps less) and cook over medium/low heat for a while (60-90 minutes, until reduced). Sterilize jars (about 4 half-pint jars for 5 pounds of grapes) and lids. Ladle out a cup or so of the juice into a blender and add pectin powder (I use Pomona's Universal Pectin) and then recombine with the rest of the boiled mixture. Add calcium chloride water (it comes with the pectin, and activates it so you can make lower-sugar jams and jellies). Ladle into jars, tighten lids and process in a boiling water bath for 5-10 minutes.
(I'll take a better picture in the daytime)(That's a little better.)

And it's crazy tasty. But don't take my word for it.

Two beauties before bed

I'm a little overwhelmed at the thought of leaving again for another week of political madness, so I thought I'd just share two of the beautiful things from my yard today.

I planted these poppies from seeds my mother sent. She has them growing on her property in South Dakota, if the goats haven't eaten them yet.

And this tomato. . . I hope the colors come though online. There's a quality loss in the transition to this blog that I can't fix, but I call this my Rastafarian tomato.

Wish me luck in Minneapolis. I called my boss and asked her to send me to photograph the hurricane instead of the Republicans. She said, "Actually. . ."

So it looks like I may be off to NOLA soon after.

Here we go again.