Not me. I know, without a shadow of a doubt. I am a bit odd.
Tuesday is Farmer’s Market day where I work. I go there, buy my lunch (either a falafel sandwich or a tamale, depending on my mood), and then I buy other things. Today, I bought pesto and some snow peas. I also bought strawberries. I buy one little pint of strawberries each week. And then, I eat them all on Tuesday. I try to remember to share them with the architect, but that doesn’t work out so well.
This afternoon, I was popping strawberries into my mouth and trying not to get juice everywhere, when I had a brilliant idea. I had brought a cup of vanilla yogurt (the only flavor I like) and some granola for a snack. Why not make a delicious little parfait?
So I did. I cut strawberries in half and layered them (in a punch cup I found) with yogurt and the (home-made) granola. And I stirred it all together and ate it. And I loved it.
What’s weird about that, you may be asking?
I detest – with a fiery passion – strawberry yogurt. I will not eat it. The thought of it makes me gag – and the flavor of it….well no need to talk about that.
But yet, the fresh strawberries stirred into vanilla yogurt? Delicious.
And, speaking of produce, I need to show you pictures of my beautiful garden.
Last night, I found two baby tomatoes. I praised the plants accordingly, and then encouraged the third, so-far non-producer.
My pea vines are full of peas, and some of them are plumping up nicely.
We have spinach galore, and the green beans are recovering nicely from their stint as the slug’s all-you-can-eat buffet. My potatoes are growing like crazy, as are my pumpkins.
A month or so ago, I pulled up a couple of zucchini plants, because I’d determined that zucchini is certainly not something you need more than 2 hills of. The architect, being the softie he is, rescued the discarded zucchini plants and planted them in another place. I assured him they would probably live and would, most likely, take over the entire yard, even from such an unlikely location.
Well, they died. Or so we thought. Last night, as we were surveying the estate (an activity we do most nice evenings, usually with wine), I saw it. A healthy, growing zucchini. About 1 foot away from where he’d planted it, but definitely a zucchini, and definitely alive. It’s a miracle, y’all.