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Here we are again with our stupid twenty-three hour day

Spring forward microfarm breakfast

Upon rising this morning I feel the day has been wasted before I do a thing. Before resetting a single clock. Before applying lipstick. Before coffee. I wander the garden in my bathrobe and wide brimmed hat. OMG, what is the world coming to? *My hour has been stolen!

In the garden I pet the plants. The chickens aren’t available for chitchat; they’re hiding in shady areas because the mercury is already rising. I try to remember what I did with my extra hour in the fall when we set the clocks back. Certainly is was something constructive, virtuous, and inspired.

I return to the house and paint my nails. (constructive, virtuous, inspired) ✓✓✓

Continue reading Here we are again with our stupid twenty-three hour day

The Hopeful Tomato

single garden tomato
A hopeful tomato from my garden

To this day I cannot eat salsa, garden salad or marinara without pondering the storied existence of the hopeful tomato. My father was quite the storyteller when my sister and I were kids. This is one tale that I cannot shake. Just the mention of it makes my sister six years old again.

To hear my father tell this you’d think the tomato a sentient being, the only fruit with a face in the vegetable garden kingdom. Continue reading The Hopeful Tomato