Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The Greening of my Thumb, Part Deux


See that little guy? He's about two inches tall. And he is a miracle because I have, well, a brown thumb. Remember how I have kept my almost two year old poinsettia alive? It even bloomed for me earlier this year! In May I transferred it into a larger pot and relocated it to the deck near the front door. It was happy there last summer and this year nearly tripled in size. Out in the fresh elements on the north side of the house seems to be the optimum place for it. Sometime in July I was watering the deck pots and noticed that a tiny, green bit of a branch had broken off the poinsettia. In a moment of inspiration I poked it down into the damp soil of the pot its progenitor was occupying. I promptly forgot about it. Then a couple of weeks ago when I took on the task of moving the plants indoors that I wanted to winter-over in the house I spied this perfectly leafed-out tiny plant sharing the poinsettia's pot. I know, I know, poinsettias are often propagated this way. But I have a very brown thumb. I have a lousy track record with plants and gardening of pretty much any kind. Only the hardiest of the hardy survive in my care. Which is why this baby poinsettia is pretty darn special. I should probably continue mostly ignoring it since that method has thus far been successful. It is currently potmates with a cutting off my hoya in a McCoy planter that Grandma Esther gave to me years ago.  I'm pretty sure it had a thriving plant in it at the time. Which likely withered in my care in short order. I'm hoping that this time around the McCoy pot is infused with Esther's green-thumbness. That and sharing quarters with a cutting from my magical hoya might be all it needs to survive. Oh, and the mama poinsettia is right there, too. With any luck, my thumb will be upgraded to beige.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Seizing It

The best thing about last night was just being there. Aside from the wonderful food and drink and company, sitting back and immersed in the moment was so very lovely. Not feeling the need to be anywhere else, with anyone else or to miss a minute of the togetherness by running inside to get my camera. I am happy that others took photos and shared them. Sometimes, reveling in the moment is more important to me than preserving it for posterity. The beauty of a moment is, in part at least, the fact that it is ephemeral. Being there. It's what it's all about.


This Is My Garage. Seriously.

Photo Credit, Chris Harding

Photo Credit, Marian E. Hooks


Dinner Last Night


Foolish Chicken, Basmati Rice with Carmelized Onion, Corn Muffins, Roast Potatoes with Lemon Juice and Herbs, Spinach Salad


Truffle, Pumpkin Tart on Shortbread Crust, Pumpkin Bread

*Photo Credit goes to Marian

**Food credits, Potatoes-Chris, Truffles-Jared, Pumpkin Bread-Laura, all else, me 

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Twas The Night Before, Um, Tomorrow

The chicken is cleaned and brining in the fridge. The pumpkin tart is all fragrant and cooling on top of the stove. Out in the garage the table is set and decorated. All the various components of the spinach salad are chopped and ready to be assembled just before dinner tomorrow. Also in the fridge is the black bean hummus, its flavors mingling together overnight til they reach savory, spicy perfection. This weary chef can barely type! If not for the Leinie's Oktoberfest beer I'm drinking I probably would feel neither inspired nor capable. I'm in the midst of experiencing the Ballmer Peak. It amazes me how a single serving of an alcoholic beverage can calm the angry, misfiring nerves in my hands, brief though that interlude might be. So. Excited to be hosting my trivia team friends tomorrow evening for dinner. I should probably sleep now. I'll just be here a few more minutes. Admiring how the kitchen has returned to a sparkling clean state after all the activity here today. The pumpkin tart smells delish. Beer gone. Goodnight!

Thursday, October 16, 2014