Dave had fun playing with my tomatoes. I got the highly coveted, "If I were straight, I'd show you a really good time" award!!! THAT is the highest compliment. Have you read his entry yet? If not, go here, then come back. I'll wait.
-------------Now, then. Let's get on to more mundane affairs.
Xanthous, in case you don't know (because why would you?), means yellowish.
I could go around and photograph all my yellow and gold yarn and fiber, and my sunflowers (which are nonexistent this year, but...) and my calendula and my marigolds and my daylilies and my summer squash, the couple of pieces of yellow pottery I have and the yellow botanical prints, and my yellow jasper pendant, and bees with their legs laden with yellow pollen, or dandelion blossoms -- but I'm rather sick of sticking to the rules of the ABC-Along, aren't you? I think I speak for all of us when I say we have to search desperately for an X word, and let's face it, I scoured the dictionary mightily for one I could use. So I thought I'd photograph something that is more at the front of my mind right about now.
Holy xrap, that is what's known as a xrapload of Swixx xhard! You can't see it, but there are yellow-stemmed ones in there too.
And you know, if it weren't for yellow, my wheelbarrow would be reddish (it's faded over the years) and my Swiss chard would be blue. Right? So xanthous is the word of the day, and I'm nearing the end of the ABC-Along.
In case anyone is wondering, if the conditions are right, this is how much chard you can get from one 3ft X 3ft grow bed. This is after the several bags I have already frozen and the several meals we have already eaten from this year's one bed entirely devoted to Swiss chard. And it's still growing.
It's a good thing we like it, herrm? I spent all of Sunday afternoon blanching and freezing some of this, bagging some of it up to give away, and I still had more left over to eat this week. I wonder if we'll ever eat it all, or will we just grow so terribly sick of it that I'll never grow it again? I haven't even started on the kale yet. And the new fall planting of beet greens.
I had beet greens and chicken for breakfast yesterday morning. And a highly delicious breakfast it was, too.
The other night I had a dream that I had realized a whole other great place for a garden spot that would dramatically increase my growing space. I was knocking myself on the head and saying, "Why didn't I think of this before?!" Then I woke up and realized I was dreaming about my childhood home, not this one. I told Claudia about this dream, to which she replied:
"Repeat after me: I am a gardener, not a farmer."