Somewhere nearby there must be some oregano scented honey. The bees are busy in the herb garden outside my back door today.
This is the oregano that I dug out and moved to another spot a couple of years ago. Now it’s coming up around the winter savory.
Well, anyway, it’s good in pasta sauce!
I think of myself as a person who is reasonably careful without being paranoid or petrified by the stuff she hears on the morning news. But recently I’ve started washing my fruits and vegetables with fruit soap that I bought at Trader Joe’s. It just seems prudent. And I find that I like my veggies and fruit without a layer of wax.
And on an unrelated note, I believe that the hummingbird outside my library window knows that it is I who replenishes the syrup in the feeder. No, really. He just came buzzing up to the window and hovered meaningfully. He quite possible made eye contact—who is to know for certain in such a tiny face?—and then backed away and looked at the feeder as if to say, “Forget something?”
Upon checking the feeder, I found it empty. So I rinsed and refilled it with fresh syrup from the fridge. I’d no sooner regained my seat here by the window than the little fellow came back, looked in at me again, and then landed on the sticky full feeder. He is even now leaning back and peering around the side of the feeder.
Is that an appreciative gleam I see in his eye? “It’s almost as if the humans understand when we need more nectar!”
[Good grief, can you tell I'm reading Melville?]
My coworker’s daughters were here yesterday. ‘Fia took my Crocs for a spin.
She’s an amazing, beautiful kid.
And she has good taste in shoes.
Fuzzy photos, darn it.
There is really no reason for my lunch to be perched on my windowsill at work. Except that a couple of people innocently encouraged me to continue with the jars motif.
And I am a shameless sucker for pleasing the teacher or apparently anyone else who asks me for something. Tell me what to do and I will do it and I will try to do it in a very special way. (Oh, ugh…annoying child.)
Also, this doesn’t require a huge amount of staging, since part of my small effort to reduce my environmental footprint includes reusing glass jars. There are supposed to be nasty chemicals in plastic containers that are released when you microwave them, so I’m also trying in small ways to keep my brain and body intact a little longer.
Hence, this photo of my lunch having one last outing before it meets its demise.
Happy grain. Happy canteloupe. Blissfully unaware of its impending fate.
I had to check out the newly refurbished Starbucks across the street from my office. I told myself it was because I forgot to bring milk for my tea. Thought I’d read a couple of scripts for work over there, while I was at it.
So I crossed the street to get some coffee and a scone. Realized I forgot the scripts.
Got back to my car, where the scripts were, and realized I’d forgotten to put milk in my coffee. Sigh. Back across the street with the scripts and the black coffee.
Sat down and enjoyed myself, and read the scripts faster than I would have with the Internet in front of me. So there!
My boiled egg breakfast.
Gee, a lot of interesting stuff goes on, on my kitchen counter.
Right.
I was mixing up fresh hummer food this morning and noticed the light angling through the jar.
It’s always a little comedy routine around here when I’m making this, because Dodger loves hummingbird nectar. I let him sample it out of the big glass measuring cup.
The hummingbirds have already come to the feeder by the library window and taken a good look at us. Dodger on the sill, me at my writing table.
Free! Well, sort of. Free to my friends and family.
Finally acheived my little goal of putting up some pickled onions. It takes 3-6 months for them to pickle well, so I will have some in time for Thanksgiving. D’s cousin, MC, loves them as much as I do. It’s from his grandma’s recipe.
It’s one of those recipes with lots of wiggle room. Cider vinegar, pickling spices and onions. Aunt M uses full strength vinegar, but I water mine down by about 2/3 to 1/2. The amount of pickling spices is anyone’s guess.
These jars are in the back of my fridge now, and there they’ll stay till the onions are infused with the color of the vinegar.
To celebrate, I ate one of the 3 remaining onions from the last batch with slivers of sharp cheddar cheese.
I had some errands to run on the way home, so I took San Fernando Road down most of the length of the valley yesterday.
Bad day for street vendors. Hot and humid. We aren’t used to the humid here. What’s this!? Moisture!? Aaaaaah!
I had to stop further along my route to get this shot. I never would have thought of the brush on the hillside as dusky purple, but there it is. Like pieces of the sky have rained down onto the grass.
ST pointed this out to me this morning. What seems to be a grapevine—what a nice volunteer to find in your yard!—reaching out and knotting itself around wrought iron.
We are both fascinated with the thousands of strategies that plant life has employed to survive and thrive. Beautiful diversity.
Morning light on an asperagus fern in ST's back yard. Can you just see me walking around her beautiful place taking shots? (Wait! Don't look, I'm in my sleeping shirt and shorts!)
Actual proof that I was there. My super-special pedicure is still intact! I didn't see both of these tendrils when I took this.
Beautiful grasses on the other side of the wall around the Studio City library. I was going in to pick up some books on tape.
Drive drive drive. Listen listen listen. Keeps me calm on the commute.
Remember the pair of quail we were so happy to see in our back yard? They’re back! With chicks! Here are the chicks and the dad.
D spotted the three little ones nestled down between clumps of grass at the edge of the patio. The mom and dad checked out the yard while the babies lay low. Then dad walked back and forth over their heads a couple of times, and they seemed to get the message that it was okay to come out.
We watched them poke around the back yard for about 15 minutes. The chicks are learning to scratch between the bricks for food. One of them squatted down between scratches and rested. Funny little slacker!
It was a good day for birds in the front yard, too. Couldn't get a shot of the hummers, but here's a goldfinch, raiding the wildflowers for seeds.
Don't want to forget the inside birds... Dodger enjoys looking out at the wild guys, as long as they don't get too close. No, he's not supposed to be standing on the planter!
We went to Ventura to pick D’s guitar up after it was repaired. Then spent the afternoon with B&E in their home. B plays the harp. Here it is resting on the floor while she was off checking the progress of the amazing red sauce she made for dinner.
Mmmm. Sausages, meatballs and whole boiled eggs along with the pasta!
This morning I woke up early again. (Why oh why does this happen when I really feel like I need more sleep?)
Read a chapter of Moby Dick that really got me excited. Chapter 49, in which Ishmael experiences a transformation. It’s just such a perfect chapter. I read and reread it, and wrote four pages in my notebook about it. I’m amazed at Melville’s wit. No one ever told me he was witty. And I want to write that kind of transformation for one of my characters.
So I enthused about the chapter to my DH, and then called my mom and told her all about it during my drive to work. (Stop throwing stones, I use a headset, okay?)
Amazing how literature can get your blood moving sometimes!
