Sunday, October 25

johnny tomatoseed

this weekend was marked by unexpected failures and surprising successes.

I'll elaborate: rental-house appliances suck. out of three attempts for the weekend, two were pretty decisive fails. the simple no-oil apple cherry cake? burnt on the outside, gooey inside. still tasty, given 20 seconds in the micro to firm up, but no beauty on the plate. that perfect, no-fail beef burgundy recipe from the perfect recipe? after a second day in the oven (which probably should have been skipped, using the crock pot instead) it was great. but it took — let's see — four hours friday evening plus another four or five today (carry the one)...way too freaking long. so I got out the trusty electronic thermometer and anchored the probe-thingy under the pizza stone, and it seems my oven either runs right on the mark, or it might be approximately 30 degrees below correct for 30 minutes or so...or it might just hang out at 60 degrees higher. hmm. well no wonder. so what's a gal to do? it seems illogical to give up baking entirely. but it seems just as unreasonable buying a better oven for a rental house.

so that just brings us to the happy surprise of the weekend: after mourning the loss of our crispy, blackened victory garden (did you wonder where the garden pics had gone, 'round about june?), the rains returned with such regularity that we hadn't had a chance to keep up with the mowing.
while the front yard remained respectably shabby, the back forty went completely wild. sasquatch wild. that dog would not even venture into the boonies to get his business done, instead skirting the high grass that might conceal trip-wires, tiger traps, or perhaps a pygmy civilization.

so this afternoon we doused ourselves in deet, fired up the (heh. hippie electric) mower and b began to push back into the high grass, horse herb, and saplings that had sprung up in the last few weeks. have I mentioned yet that it's rained a lot? as b's overtaking small sequoias and I'm following behind with the extension cord, stepping over the fire ant mounds now disturbed, I begin noticing the two-foot plants making up the prairie around us. among the grass and creeping horse that...millet? could be.

{brown-top millet}

that plant under the protective canopy of the fig tree? uh huh, a chile pequin. entirely new to our garden.

{chile pequin}

and that unmistakable scent filling the air...seems like it's been absent for it?? wait, what's that b is struggling to push the mower over? my. god. the tomatoes have come home!

{volunteer tomatoes among the two-foot weeds}

{already blooming}

let it never be said that blackland prairie is barren. the only question left is whether (according to b's theory) the birds have developed agriculture, become self-sustaining, and will soon overthrow us.

{staked and ready for more rain}


1 comment:

double tonic said...

Lord of the birds?

(Just let me know when it's fig season again?)