Green, Where Art Thou?

Oh where are you, seed catalogues? It's that time of year when holidays end and the dark winter days stretch into months of ice and barren ground. This year I will have a bigger garden if things go well, and of course part of the fun is perusing which vegetables to try. I am easy to amuse; but really, pick your own green beans from the back yard and see the difference in a variety grown for tenderness, not durability in shipping. Same with broccoli, tomatoes, tiny, nibbly carrots.

I would like to plant a sour cherry tree which needs no cross-pollination, and Asian pears, which do. Always fun to get results, and I would be queen of sour cherries, pies for everyone! Espalier is the medieval method of growing trees in small spaces to get a maximum yield of fruit, and it sounds maybe fussy but not impossible. You see what keeps me up at night.

Today was one of those days when you see that everything is all right. Two friends from different ends of my social spectrum were in town, both incredibly nice people. It was wonderful to see them, they are both good souls.

Darlene brought me a jar of broccoli sprouts, their little rootlets are just starting to appear. This shall be my mini-garden till spring, this jar, and they only need rinsing twice daily. Nutritionally, they contain more than the mature head of broccoli; I don't know what I'm going to do with them as I am not a salad type of person, but I'll figure that out.

The other dab of information that she ladled out was that in keeping her blood pressure down naturally, a tablespoon of molasses provides one third of necessary potassium to do that. Hokay, a spoonful of molasses I can do, I thought at the time. Organic! Natural! Time Honored! said the label. Who could argue?

I got the bottle home, cracked it open, measured out a spoonful and holy moley, it made my eyes water and new hair sprout on my chest. Good lord that stuff is strong. Part of becoming an adult means you can sort of do what you want, you can have potato chips for dinner if you like, your rules are your own. My lord in heaven, so who is going to make me take this molasses? There is no adult hierarchy in place to enforce a daily spoonful, so suck it up, it is my own responsibility.

Can you see where this is going? I'd have to guilt myself into taking it which would work until rebellion wagged it's tail. Then I'd have to set up some sort of reward system, say a Dove chocolate square for each spoonful except you know I would skip the medicine and go right for the candy. Why? Because, I'm in charge! I'm the adult! I know that I don't really have to take any fake medicine if I don't want to before diving into the chocolate. God, I'm a pain in my own ass.

It is simply a Friday night, a night for staying up late. First supper, then some reading. With a low cloud cover, the city light bounces back from the sky, giving everything a warm glow, like dull embers in a dying fire, ending day. Sleep well and long, busy day tomorrow.