Our first farm share is still several weeks away, but our family looks eagerly towards fresh greens again after a winter of pre-packaged salad.
In additional to empty aisles in the TP and cleaning products sections, the lettuce section of our local grocery stores has also taken a hit during this uncertain time. The result? Pickings have been slim, or nonexistent.
On one shopping run, the Chaplain sent me a photo from our bulk foods store of the empty shelves were the lettuce should have been. That day, he came home with a really sad bagged salad with limp iceberg and romaine lettuce. It was all they had.
We’ve had better luck with coleslaw, and so for the past couple of weeks, we’ve been buying cabbage almost exclusively. It has been much fresher than its limp brethren.
As we wait for farm share season, I want to share my favorite coleslaw recipe, from my mom, by way of the Amish, by way of the internet, with a few Red Herring adjustments.
As fiddle leaf figs were blowing up the lifestyle and home design internet a few years ago, I walked into a big box home improvement store one frigid night in February and saw fig plants sitting there in the houseplant section. They were just $10 for a decent-sized plant. I put two in my cart.
I’ve always loved plants and gardening, but I always felt my plants survived in spite of me, not because of me. It wasn’t for lack of good intentions.
The second and last day of Carnival is Carnival Tuesday. Originally we weren’t planning on doing anything that day, but I found out that mud mas is Carnival Tuesday and man, I really wanted to do it.
I’ve been reading, discovering, planning, and sewing every day for the past few weeks. I made a beautiful project that I’m looking forward to sharing here, except I can’t seem to get around to taking photos of it completed.
I can’t gather steam to make any one of these activities come to anything.
I can’t read enough of any book to finish it. I can’t get past my sewing indecision to make the next project. The pressure coming from within to make something and prove my worth is ridiculous. And I mean ridiculous because of the pressure’s intensity, and also ridiculous that I feel I have to prove my worth.
This is part II – Jouvert, the first event of Carnival, was last week.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, it was time to start getting ready for the Carnival Monday road march, which went through downtown Scarborough. I had a black and neon green mesh and spandex two-piece suit which I wore with Carnival-strength stockings my sister-in-law picked up for me.
