Friday night was a long-anticipated date night with my husband.
I can’t remember the last time we went out – just the two of us. Really can’t. The thing is, our kids are pretty well-behaved in restaurants, so it’s not like we want to get away from them or anything.
I guess over the years we’ve just gotten used to bringing them along. And like, I suspect, many parents out there, we let the smaller “us” – the couple part of this family – fall by the wayside to an extent.
We have a large, shallow, rectangular basket on a shelf underneath where the toaster and coffee pot are in our kitchen, and we use it to hold newspapers and broken down cereal boxes until one of us (usually me) brings them out to the recycle bin. Softie is a big fan of recycling.
For the last several springs now we’ve had the fun of discovering tomato seedlings popping up in the darndest places. Sprung from seeds dropped last year, either by tomatoes that rotted off the vine or from seeds that ended up in compost, we’ve been finding yellow pear, cherry and – best of all – brandywine tomatoes.
We also get cilantro/coriander and dill showing up in unexpected spots – another bonus.
THIS year, however, we’ve got the biggest rogue ever.
As you know, if you’ve read my blog a while, I love tendrils. They fascinate me. Little curling, grasping bits of green reaching out, looking for something solid to hang onto so the plant (in this case, pickling cucumber) can climb higher.
I’ve been making cheese for a few years now, but not as frequently as I’d like, and certainly not as many varieties as I’d like. I’m hoping to kick myself into a higher gear as this summer flies by, and maintain that gear through the rest of the year.