This is how I feel today—the season's first tailgate market is tomorrow, and of course I don't feel ready at all! (I am, really, I just don't FEEL ready.)
Go and see other critters, ready or not, at The Friday Ark . . . and tell 'em we sent you.
All the trees are leafed (leaved? whatever . . . ) out, I can't see the neighbors, and they can't see me . . . it's like living in a deep green cavern. The weather is lovely, cloudy and damp this morning. Thundershowers this afternoon and tonight!
On Tuesday we both went to have lab work done (John's usual periodic A1C, and mine in preparation for my yearly poke-and-prod next week); then to Waechter's where I spent $40 on thread (!)—two huge 1000-meter spools of white and one of black—but I was strong and bought no patterns, no fabric, nor any of their wonderful buttons or silk ribbon . . . but I AM planning to go back in a couple of weeks and buy a button or two to bead around for a pin; then to the big farmers' market, where we got six gallons of strawberries (local! well, from Easley, which is within the 100-mile radius that constitutes local). Five of them are now residing in the freezer, and I'm experimenting with drying the other gallon. Then to Jesse Israel's across the streety, where I bought some lemon thyme, a garlic chives plant (mine is looking kind of puny this year), some purple and some African blue basil, and looked longingly at the concrete statues . . .
We went to BB Barnes yesterday and bought some more squash seeds, a lemongrass plant, a lemon verbena and a catmint to replace the one that didn't come back up this year; then to Lowe's where we finally found some Roma tomatoes and a couple of little sedum plants to go in my strawberry jar. I've tried growing strawberries in it, and herbs, and neither worked particularly well. I want sedums that will grow and drip down over the edges and look all interesting and grandmotherly . . .
Made so far this week: blueberry jam, blueberry marmalade, strawberry jam, strawberry-rhubarb jam. Still to make: plain rhubarb jam, blueberry-rhubarb jam. (In case, you wondered, we're attempting to Do Something With All This Rhubarb, and to use up the last of the frozen strawberries and frozen blueberries before we freeze more this year. And to catch up on our market inventory.)
First tailgate is this Saturday. I have a batch of children's aprons, one adult's, and three market bags (made from odds and ends left from other things—I have no idea whether they'll sell, but I have very little money invested in them, and I can always use them myself.), plus the usual jam and jelly and eggs. I have one more adult's apron cut out, and that's my project for today, along with getting things tagged and priced. Tomorrow I will be baking little fruit breads—banana-black walnut, apricot-pecan, and strawberry-almond for sure, and possibly blueberry-orange. And maybe some cookies. (And a nice big pot of pinto beans and a cake of cornbread for supper, along with the last of the ramps.)
For today, I think I'll get John to go pick up the mail before he goes out in the garden, and stop at the store for a pound of ground Angus beef for hamburgers. I have a tomato, and some slaw, and some ramps and potatoes, and I could make buns while I'm sewing . . .
Two of John's beloved tree peonies—the blooms are huge! They don't last long, but they are lovely while they're here.
In honor of my friend Trudy, who is having surgery today to remove two melanomas. Prayers, healing thoughts, etc. are all appreciated . . .
If you've tried to email me and I haven't answered, or if you left a comment and I seem to be ignoring it (other than my usual tardy answering, that is) . . . AOL is apparently bouncing any mail with a link to a blogspot address (and God only knows what else). So I have a new email address (in the Email Me link on the right), and hopefully that will fix things. And I'll try to sort out comments later today—right now I have to hang out the laundry, go to the post office, go pick up some prescriptions and buy another box of chai mix (my current vice), go and buy an alarm clock that will go off when I set it to instead of at midnight whether it's set to go off or not (too many times knocked into the floor by cats, methinks), go and buy some more dried catnip, maybe get my hair trimmed . . .
Damn computers . . . .
I made these for a swap; they mail out tomorrow. (More under the cut, for those who are interested . . . )
Peppermint and Applemint . . .
Catnip (of course!) . . .
Italian parsley . . .
Apple Geranium . . .
And garlic chives and sage . . .
My plan is to be able to bring these in over the winter, plus a pot of regular curly parsley and one of oregano, and whatever else I plant. First, of course, I have to find a window with enough light . . . we shall see. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy them this summer.
Leeks and onions, cabbage and broccoli and cauliflower . . .
Rhubarb and feverfew and fennel (and some strawberries) . . .
Potatoes! and the blackberries are loade with buds . . . 
Horseradish (and some more strawberries) . . . 
Mint (I don't know what kind, but it's not peppermint or spearmint. When I bought it a couple of years ago, it was one demure little plant labeled "julep mint" . . . now look at it! But it tastes very good indeed.) . . . 
Chives . . . 
Giselle is the 'new goat'; Eddie has gone to live with one of John's friends who has other goats his size—he was so much larger than everyone else here, and becoming so pushy . . . (and he also took Thor, whose banding was not entirely successful—i.e., he remained a billy goat—and who now has a hareem of his very own, just like his father in the next field over). Anyway, in return we received Giselle, who was on the low end of the totem pole at Brandon's (all his nannies picked on her), and who is expecting at some point in the not-too-distant future. She seems to be fitting in nicely here.
For now, though, she 's just enjoying the afternoon sun . . .
since I was working outside, and doing laundry, and baking cookies for the store in Black Mountain, and a bunch of other stuff that I have since forgotten . . .
Did you know that yesterday was Mother Jones' birthday? Me neither. Jane has a post here, with pictures—one of Mother Jones with Calvin Coolidge, and another of an icon of her. And here is another post by her, on the origins of May Day (the Labor holiday) and the tradition that links May Day and lilies of the valley.
And a Beltane poem at Beyond the Fields We Know—
There is a song in the greenwood,
There's an age old tale to be sung,
Healing is there in the greenwood,
Spiralling endlessly under the sun.
Go and read the whole thing, and follow her links to other Beltane articles.
Charlene Spretnak has a post up at Women and Spirituality called "May is Mary's Month!"—she quotes a few lines from Gerard Manley Hopkins:
Flesh and fleece, fur and feather,
Grass and greenworld all together
Isn't that lovely?
Something that definitely isn't lovely—mountaintop removal coal mining. Here's an article from the Nashville Scene: apparently the Tennessee legislature isn't going to do anything to stop it, and that's a shame and a pity.
We should know better.
Spring takes me by surprise every year. You'd think I'd expect it by now (I'm what . . . 58 this year? Apparently a slow learner . . . . ) One day there are only buds and a few tiny leaves on the trees. Then it rains, and boom! there they are, green as green can be. I know I'll be sick of green by August, but now it's the most beautiful color I've ever seen. (Below: side yard and Rita's field next door, which I covet shamelessly—if I had that field, I could have a cow!; side yard off the back porch and across the neighbor's driveway—those are amaryllis left from Christmas that I'm waiting on to die back so I can pull the bulbs; and off the back porch, looking down into the woodlot—that wooden contraption is the brooder box where we put little chickens until they're big enough to go outside. The pheasants live in a pen behind and underneath it.)
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