Archives for the month of: January, 2013

I hope you know Renee and her seeds.  Located at 6060 Graham Hill Road in Felton, California, or on line at http://www.reneesgarden.com, she has the best lettuces anywhere.  I highly recommend the Jade Gem container lettuces.    The sunflowers aren’t bad either — bright bandolier and cinnamon sun both worked very well in Fishkill last summer.  This year I am going to try sun Samba and sunzilla.  But I want to reserve my highest praise, my A Plus, for Mrs. Scott Elliot columbine seed.  For years I had looked to replace the columbine I had seen at the International Culinary Institute in Hyde Park.  It was tri-color and had a flirtatious nature that required me to return to steal seeds at the right moment in late August.  Those seeds didn’t work much to my irritated sadness.  BUT then I ordered Renee’s.  They not only took, even in my shady window in my New York office.  I nursed them along all winter with ice cubes to keep the city dryness from devastating them.  They grew  and grew and grew and now I have six plants upstate and three in containers downstate.  Our flirtation is not over but just begun.  Columbine is particularly fertile when it gets going.  I am so grateful for Renee and her profligate seeds.

There is a moment that comes at 30,000 feet when your stomach requests assistance.  Usually this happens about five minutes after your back has requested the same.  You remember that you have brought frozen black bean soup from the freezer.  You thought it would thaw and be good cold, even without the Mexican cream and chopped chilis it so richly deserves.   You thought you could get it frozen through the Homeland Insecurity Department.

You have also brought a spoon, and remember the time you forgot the spoon and the flight attendant allowed you to use hers.  As you fondle the spoon, you realize something else.  Plastic freezes and cracks at certain altitudes, rendering the plastic bag in which the cracked container was housed to be full of black bean soup.  The container has had its limit.  As has your back.  And your stomach.

That’s when you ask for the airline “menu.”  You order the roast beef sliders with the package of horseradish sauce that requires your seat mate’s hands, and a pair of pliers,  to open.  There are two “sliders”, slider being a word for a small sandwich.  A very small sandwich.  Both sandwiches appear wearing a “bun” that should have stayed in the freezer.  You say a small prayer of thanks for what there is, which prayer refrains from mentioning what isn’t.

The Left Behind

Beach Stones, Unidentifiable Mushrooms, Driftwood, Starfish: What We can’t take with us

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