‘Tis the time of year to make New Year’s resolutions (unless you’re my husband, who seems strangely immune to the resolution bug). Because we’ll be bidding farewell to good old 2010 and hello to shiny new 2011 in just a few short days, I figured I better get started.
I’ve nearly finished the National Geographic book Edible: An Illustrated Guide to the World’s Food Plants (2008), and so thought I’d regale you with a few more interesting facts from the last section I read. Serendipitously (don’t you just love that word?), the category of plant foods covered in this section included some delicious and healthy edibles bound to put on a short-lived appearance at many Christmas parties and feasts this week.
A few weeks ago, a fairly impressive wind storm littered Douglas fir branches around our farm, plus snapped off the dead top of the big, old fir gracing our horses’ pasture. It seemed a shame to let all of those branches go to waste …
Now that you’ve hopefully had time to finish your Thanksgiving turkey leftovers (our turkey soup was fabulous, by the way), I thought it might be OK to share a few last pics of my turkeys taken before they were … well … you know.
I started to write a little ode-type thank you blog to our dearly departed turkeys today, but then I remembered the looks on our guests’ faces when I began reminiscing about the turkeys in their living state during Thanksgiving dinner last year.
On a visit last week to our town library, I parked next to a line of ornamental maple trees ablaze with brilliant, sun-struck foliage. Beneath them, a riot of scarlet, crimson and orange leaves covered the ground, free for the taking. (Or so I assumed.) So I grabbed a shopping bag from the car and stuffed it full, a little guiltily—as if I were pilfering rubies instead of dead leaves.
Today was one of those perfect autumn days that takes my breath away: cool, crisp air; pale-golden beams of sunlight slanting through the firs; the scent of damp alder leaves wafting up as I raked them into piles to toss on the vegetable garden.
I woke up to gloom and drizzle this morning, a sight that would usually make me feel like ducking back underneath the covers to hibernate. (I can’t, of course, because the animals will be demanding their breakfast.) But today is different because a gloomy, drizzly day is perfect for staying indoors to make herbal jellies, and that’s exactly what I have planned: a long-overdue jelly day with my sunny friend and jelly buddy, Linda.