Posts Tagged ‘shallots’

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In and Around the Garden in 2011

January 1, 2011

Walking in and around my garden this morning, here’s what I noticed on the first day of 2011:

Splash . . . it’s raining again.

My hydrangea has buds.

Trick or treat . . . I still have a pumpkin on the front porch.

It’s no longer pitch-black at 5:00 p.m.  . . . actually, I noticed this a few nights ago.

Hate it when this happens . . . every shallot planted in one section of the garden has disappeared.

Surprise-surprise . . . there’s a dozen Alpacas in the neighbor’s field, next to my chicken pasture.

Well, blow me down . . . the one-trillion leaves in the perennial garden don’t have a clue how to drift onto the neighbor’s property.

For the first time in a long while . . .   I read these words on the my blackboard:

“What an opportunity . . . to confront change rather than simply react to it, to shape the rest of my life.”—author unknown

What have you noticed in the New Year?

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After the Storm

October 26, 2010

For those of you who may have missed my note in the comment box on Monday, that was the only way I could access WordPress.  Sunday’s storm put a twist of some sort in my land and cell phones. Neither worked. I even tried to log onto WordPress this morning through the public library computer, but no luck. The day wasn’t a complete loss, though.

After giving the technical world a rest (no sense trying to compel a dead force), and AAA unlocked my car to retrieve the keys dangling in the ignition, I decided to drive to Lockhart Seeds in Stockton for the shallot sets I’ve been waiting to purchase. A good spirit up-lifter.

As far as I’m concerned, shallots are the best tasting onion one can put into his or her mouth. Shallots are so sweet and yummy you can’t help wanting more. Supermarket shallots are pricy and never find their way into my grocery cart. The sets weren’t cheap either, $30 for 5lbs. Nevertheless, I’ll have enough to last a year.

This will be my first time growing shallots, and I hope Monday’s weird happenings haven’t jinxed these tiny brown orbs. I don’t have to be asleep to dream big about the harvest. The vision is there on the palm of my hand, on my tip of my tongue, and in dishes dressed with tasty shallots.

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