Basil bombs

Just before the first freeze, I harvested the basil.

Lots of basil.
An armful of basil.
A sinkful of basil.

All this basil grew from cuttings from our farm share. We would get a bunch of it along with the veggies and eggs and I would stick the basil in a cup of water so it would keep until I used it. I used far less than expected. Then the next week more basil would arrive and I'd look at the past week's bunch and find that it had rooted. So I stuck bits of basil outside in the ground - and it grew. It flourished! We had the best basil patch ever!
Bumble bees and tiny butterflies loved the flowers.
Anytime a recipe needed basil I had lots of leaves to pull - far more than any recipe needed.

When I harvested the basil, it scented the whole house. That powerful basil aroma hit your nose when you walked in the door. What to do with so much basil? Basil bombs.
We learned about basil bombs from our friend Brian. Basil leaves and a little good olive oil, processed in the blender until they make a paste. Rolled up in balls and wrapped and frozen.

All winter long when sauces and stews call for basil I'll just drop in a basil bomb.
(And if you happen to visit and look in the freezer, this explains those little round green balls.)Basil bombs.

An explosion of scent and taste.

Leaves of three..

Nope, no picture of poison ivy here.
Also no picture of the inside of my arm festooned with blisters from the forearm up to the armpit - especially across that tender inside of the elbow spot.

Aren't you glad now that the limit keeps me from posting pictures?

Sunshine on a cloudy day

Spring blooms...we just can't wait for them.

Especially when it's chilly and drizzly like today. Here is a bunch of bright yellow forsythia already.
Not from outside - outside the buds are just beginning to show a little color.

These early blooms are ones I brought inside and "forced".

Actually I don't think there was much force involved.

I brought them in one day and they burst into bloom the next - they were as ready for Spring as we all are.

Pulling Cattails

Pond? What pond? Yes, there is a pond under all the cattails and reeds and waterlilies.

And it's about time someone got in there and pulled up some of those cattails. I mean, really, we ought to be able to see the water!

Uhh - who exactly is going to wade into that algae-filled water? I guess I am. Frogs scatter as I plop into the scum. The mucky bottom grabs my sandals so that I step with a glop and a sploosh.

It proves harder than you would think to pull up cattails. I have to rock them back and forth until I feel the root give and then ease them up. Then I throw them like spears up on the bank, until I am in the middle of the pond and just stack them beside me to carry out.

I can't think about what is in this water, wrapping itself around my ankles and crawling up my bare legs. It's thick. The pond has outdone itself in fecundity. I notice a turtle poking its head up by the bank. It gives me a resentful look before it slides back down under the pondweed.

Ah, here comes the man to help. Not to get into the water, but to pick up the armfuls of cattail stems and carry them off to the compost pile.

"Maybe that should be your last one" he says, as I grab a giant cattail in the middle of the pond. The water laps around my thighs as I pull, jiggle, and pull again. I'm thinking about the great, big, enormous turnip that won't come up. I give a mighty yank...

the cattail comes UP

I go DOWN

OH YUCK!

The man is doubled over, hooting with laughter. I drag my slimy, mucky self up out of the surprisingly cold water.

"Yes," I say, " I think that was the last one."

I can't get into a hot shower fast enough.