Farmers market flowers

I like to buy as much as I possibly can at the farmer's market though there is only so much I can eat. So I like to get flowers, though I don't usually buy them. I love zinnias. These were gigantic and the colors were so weird I had to get them. I do not, however, like walking home with a big bunch of flowers. I'm not sure why that is.

Winston

Thinking of Florence

I gave this little concrete rabbit to my Aunt Florence many years ago. She loved rabbits, even more so when she wasn't sober which was quite often. It's a hose guide and I had had it in my yard but I knew she'd like it so I gave it to her and put it near her front door and she LOVED it. She was hard to please, not because she was particular but because she wasn't. She didn't need or want much so I was happy to see how much she loved it over the years. When she died I took it back and now it rests on my tiny table,with the huge steel rebar sticking out of its belly is down the hole where the umbrella would go. The rebar, which is not removable is there so it could be plunged deeply into the ground and the hose couldn't move it when you were watering. It prevented your flowers from being crushed. I think of Florence whenever I see it.

In the wake of tomato sauce

I watched a woman on the Food channel make tomato sauce yesterday. She said it took 20 minutes. I will have to inform my Italian business partner whose recipe I use. It takes the better part of a weekend to make.

Stop the insanity.

One last thing. Morning glories from inside my condo. It's a little cloudy and I'm shooting through the screen door but they are as blue as the sky. No more morning glories. Unless there is some miracle of sorts which, you never know, there could be. But probably not.

Queen for a night

I never saw her bloom. It was just the one night and it's over in all her glory she was alone and unattended. And now here is what's left, twisted and spent. So much for being queen of the night.

The most perfect blue.

There is just nothing as beautiful as the blue of these flowers. I've tried to paint and draw them and there is no way to make them look beautiful as they do in real life. When I went out to water everything this morning, it was very overcast and some of the flowers had not fully opened. I love that. They remind me of little bats wings unfolding. And I was touched by a lone flower blooming among the fading and the fresh feverfew, and whatever that bedding plant it is I put in this summer that's popular at the moment, its jittery white blossoms poking out here and there. It has covered the oregano which is usually pushy enough to fight it's way through anything.

More-ning glories

Weather being what it is, I may have a profusion of flowers before I'm done. This is their progression. First, the one, then 2, then 4 then this morning 6. I'm hoping for 10 tomorrow.

The Queen of the Night

On the other end of my balcony the queen of the night is about to bloom. It will bloom at night and I will not bother to get up and look at it. Whatever insect, bird or bat that pollenates it doesn't exist here and so this dramatic event will go unnoticed. It is the first time it's bloomed since I moved it here. And just the one bloom isn't enough to motivate me. I've had as many as 7 on it before. The first picture is 2 days ago, the other is this morning.

Morning glorious.

Finally a morning glory.

Pickled green tomato

I had these little jars I'd saved from some fig jam my sister and brother-in-law had given me. I save jars I like. They fit one green tomato exactly. I spent like 20 minutes getting the damn things inside and straight and looking essentially whole. Put in the dill, garlic, pepper corns and red pepper (not hot unfortunately) and when I poured in the brine the whole thing got discombobulated. After I processed them and they cooled down, I spent another 20 minutes or so turning them every which-a-ways to get them back into some semblance of the position they were formerly in. The jar in the middle is from Harrod's by the way. I have no idea what used to be in it.

Labor Day labor

More concerned with how they look than how they taste.

Pickles

Bread and butter pickles. The next picture is dill. I spent Saturday making pickles. I also made tomato sauce and jarred it. Though I realized when I tasted what remained in the pot, that I forgot to salt it. This is probably not such a huge problem since I can salt it when I make whatever it is I will make with it but one of the jars didn't seal so I reopened them, salted it and reprocessed the jars. A nice way to kill a lovely sunny day.

After spending the day in the hot sweaty kitchen of my condo I then went to the 40th high school class reunion of the seminary from which I did not graduate but only attended for a year and a half. I am not connected to these men and they seem very connected, even after all these years. Only one priest showed up, though I somehow have remained friendly with him, the rest are just shadows of people I used to know.

Four Collages

Something I have always wanted to make. Collages. I can't think what possessed me to sit down and start except that I had a lot of junk I'd saved, like the little paper tags they put on your laundered shirts and pieces of tickets and other ephemera that interests me. I have a lot of prayer books I plan to cannibalize.

Morning not glorious

This is my morning glory. It has twined nicely up around my light but there is little hope it will bloom anytime soon. Like my tomatoes which will most likely not turn red, the morning glories have pin-head sized blooms which are not getting bigger and will disappoint me. At least I can turn the green tomatoes into pickles.

Balcony wildlife

This is the home of my pet spider, Edmund.

Balcony garden

This is the south end of my little garden. Bay laurel which stay out until December and then tolerate the indoors for a few months before I put them back where they belong. When I put them out, the house seems empty, when I bring them in, it is cram packed. There is also some basil, a queen of the night, impatiens, some of which has volunteered in my christmas cactus. And there is my sweet opuntia.

This is my feverfew. I love it. It has been a constant companion no matter where I lived for almost 20 years.