Tag: food

Humanity

Plant sale, midstream

Lovelovemotherexpletive

There is a second weekend of plant sale. It arriveth momentarily. Based on the numbers so far, I have outspent my profits by a factor of three. In some ways, this makes total sense, because my expenses included things that I will never have to purchase again. Grow lights, a seedling heat mat, a shelving unit for the trays, etc. Next year’s numbers will look radically different.

But man, it doesn’t make my heart flutter in a good way.

I’ve been coming home from longer work days (everyone is doing the same thing at the same time and my back is sore and I’ve already got a farmer’s tan.) and then repeating the work in my own garden. I cannot get the dirt out of the creases of my hands.

There is something glorious in this, and utterly romantic to the girl who feels romantic about these things, and yet I’m fall down tired, middle-aged, and the kids keep wanting food. I don’t even like pizza anymore and its so damn expensive to fall that way. They just keep wanting food.

The one thing that i did sell that was a boon was bouquets. I made little bouquets from the flowers given to me by flower boss and they jumped right out of my hands. At eight bucks, they were a steal and they were stolen. Makes me wonder and feel happy that i’ve been planting my flower beds so well this year. I wonder if there is a drive-by market for bouquets on my street. Hmm.

But I’m tired, man. Very tired. And yes, energized in my core. Growing things is pretty damn magical.

IF YOU WANNA SING OUT, SING OUT.

Humanity

Beef Stew

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I made a nice beef stew this week. What? Kate cooked while the kids were away, and it didn’t involve eggs?! Why yes, yes I did.

Can you tell I’ve been quiet for too long today? Yes, maybe. Third person referencing is a sure sign.

But I did make a nice stew, with tips from cheffy friends, (bakers’ chocolate? oh yes.) and I took it down to my father-in-law, who is in grief and is feeling isolated. I cooked the beef in a bone broth and the nourishment is off the charts. His children call and visit beautifully, but in-between, he is not having visitors regularly and the house is echoing. I can understand. Part of the reason for my visit is that the kids are gone, I have too much time, and I know his son is away for the weekend. (with the same kids I’m missing). The sheer isolation is enough to make life warp strangely.

God, it is hard to grieve. So damn hard. How to incorporate these prickles of loss, joy, -with appreciation, love, self-reflections on our own mortality, a life reflected upon, memories of earliest life, and latest, all the temperatures mix and all at one single minute and then you are left on a ravaged beach after a tsunami. not even ready to look at the remains.

just blank.

and it happens over and over again.

I needed a very strong hug after the visit. I made it happen.

I think I need another one today. Maybe I can finagle one from my flower farm boss. I think she’s not a fan of the hugging though. I’ll go hug the guy at the quickie mart, give him a story to tell.

Its how I roll.

Love love, hug your people out there. Hug them good.

-me

Humanity

Eclipse, evidently. (PLENTY)

Lovelovemotherexpletive

Yesterday (Friday now) was stupid, folks. I was swamped with feelings of inadequacy and frankly, jealousy. It is not a good look and not something I carry well. Inadequacy I’m familiar with. Jealousy? No.

Like all of us, a work in progress am I. It was just too much yesterday and I did hit the Walking Dead, and hard.

And then I missed a day of writing, And then another. So now I’m writing on a Monday, after a weekend of plenty. Saturday was The last day of CSA pickup before Thanksgiving and I spun in the luxury of plenty. Literally, as I served the people and packed the cranberries, and figuratively as I packed the foods of a feast to come. I really did. Leeks, Potatoes, Spinach, Butternut! Apples! Sage! Onion! I was still hustling to get stuff ready and I looked at the clock and my day was done. SO MUCH PLENTY! Cornucopias overflowing, my friends.

This Thursday is Thanksgiving in these united states. ha, on that ‘united’ . but i digress and thats a grief that I cannot touch these days.

Thanksgiving is one of my most favorites (because hello gluttony! and stuffing, and then more stuffing and potatoes too, oh my god, and gravy…) but it is directly after the anniversary of my dad’s death which was Sunday, and this will be the second year that there is no extended family plenty for me to host, which is a gigantic and enjoyable distraction that makes me feel centered and well. I LOVE having people that I love in my house, it fills me up all sorts of ways…

Sigh. I tried. I opened the invite to all, but with meager responses and drive and covid risk, its been winnowed down. Less than plenty, but understandable and a day free from driving will give many of my family a different sort of ‘plenty’, so i feel that spaciousness for them.

My grief group that I am supposed to write in was last night, but as it was the actual anniversary, I couldn’t do it. For several reasons. another kind of plenty. the anniversary of my dad’s death is not something I focus on, but am aware of. My siblings are more on top of things in that way and I appreciated the focus they gave me, really.

I did some driving for my mom who was having car troubles, and she could only just say she found it a stressful day. I did not dig but just rolled along, because that is what I do. I can roll.

I may be deflated, but I still roll babies.

So say we all.

I hope you have your own loving, gorgeous Plenty this week, and all the weeks.

Is there anything more ‘barn’ than this? Really?
Color overwhelm of Cranberry
Who knew this girl would be so happy being outside in coldness feeding chickens? Who knew?
Humanity

I like being busy.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I know. Its with a certain amount of chagrin that I say this, knowing how I’ve been complaining these past few weeks.

My projects wrapped up. and while there is a tiny thing I could do, I’m finding myself utterly at a loss and swept away by emotions. I do blame perimenopause for some of it, yes, but not all.

working for myself, at home, is not an easy gig.

i’m thinking i might go binge on the walking dead, because i can hide from the gratuitous gore and just hang on to the mystery of who is going to survive or what will ever cause things to get better. (i’m on season six somewhere so don’t say a word.)

the kids are also away this weekend and i’ve had them for the past two, so there is this gaping maw sensation. I’ve got some entertainment in my social life these days but i’m thinking i’m going to take the weekend off from that too. and so, its just me, and tv.

never fear. i’ve got a crockpot going and have fed the chickens and things look normal from the outside. but still. this month. tsk.

Its nice to think about cooking good food. I’ve been assigned brussel sprouts and butternut. Plus, mashed potatoes. All will be well. I can actually just live on those, anyhow, so we’re good.

love you guys. hope your search for food will be fulfilled.

-lovelove

My ladies, of Flying Carrot Farm
Humanity

okay okay

Lovelovemotherexpletive

here we are: the otherside.

I’ve completed the hardest of my projects for this week, and i’m basking. Just momentarily, but still. And, a birthday is completed, and I can’t tell you how glad I am. And the cactus in the houseplant section of my kitchen are blooming. and there is joy in mudville. and tomorrow I get to go feed the chickens again. and that is invigorating. so much so.

so, its not necessarily the otherside, but its well down the path towards it. I can see those greener pastures of january first, i can.

there will be bumps, this is guaranteed.

I’m a bump-ridden kind of girl. But also, I’m a bump rider. I throw my hands up when the car goes over the tracks and I love the thump of my base when I hit the speedbumps. SO.

I wrote this morning about what is in my fridge and how I’m sadly familiar with the liquifaction of zucchini. and thats a bump, but i’m waving my arm around like I just don’t care. Can you see me? More liquid magic for the compost heap, baby.

And, determination. So much determination that maybe next year, I’ll even plant zucchini, just to prove it to myself that there is a way, somehow, someway, to get my kids to eat it. There is. I will lazerpoint my steely eyes on those children and watch them with glee when it happens to them.

The zuke.

(whats funny is that most of my writing this morning had to do with myself being a ‘pantser’ style (by the seat of your pants) writer, a writer without a plan who gets an idea and just runs. This post is a perfect example of the problem with pantsing. No doubt you did not expect the first sentence to lead you through this journey. Neither did I. I’m just along for the ride, like you.)

And herein lies the problem with this every day thing… no, no, i’m not going to say it, or type it, or even think it anymore.

i’m just going on faith here that if you read it, you’ll find something in it that you like. go digging. find something.

maybe my kids won’t need me to play hide the zucchini.

and because I think that sentence is so funny and leads to so much joy and hysteria, i’m going to stop right there.

love you guys. dig for it.

-kate

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Photo by Angele J on Pexels.com