Wednesday, February 13, 2013
consider the peppers
A pretty interlude. Not a gorgeous day, not one that screams beauty at you, but one that lifts up your heart just a tiny bit.
I wake up to sunshine...
... and of course, that calls for breakfast in the sun room. And here, I want to show off something on the sill of that room -- there is the Christmas Cactus which, irrationally blooms in months that have nothing at all to do with Christmas. And there is the pepper plant. This guy was sown from seed last spring. When we slipped into the fall season and frost became a danger, I pulled out the pepper plant (which had yet to produce a single pepper), packed it into a pot and carried it indoors. Why not. And sometime in the winter it bore two peppers and they have been hanging in there for months now. Delightful as they are, we cannot decide if we should eat the peppers or keep them on the plant, as mementos of a better time (weatherwise).
Okay, okay. Breakfast. A variation on the usual, but in the beauty of sunshine.
Late, much much later, after work, I drive home by way of the isthmus lakes. Where you can still find a solitary ice fisherman waiting for a fish.
I'm heading home. The sun is still with me. Faint now, but still there, letting me admire that great and magnificent evening sky...
The paths around the farmette aren't entirely free of ice yet and so I help them along, using a sturdy shovel to chip away frozen (but softly so) surfaces. Just to bring us that much closer to... spring.
I'm thinking of spring now. Every single day, it's on my mind. Even though I've got a chunk of life to confront before that.
I wake up to sunshine...
... and of course, that calls for breakfast in the sun room. And here, I want to show off something on the sill of that room -- there is the Christmas Cactus which, irrationally blooms in months that have nothing at all to do with Christmas. And there is the pepper plant. This guy was sown from seed last spring. When we slipped into the fall season and frost became a danger, I pulled out the pepper plant (which had yet to produce a single pepper), packed it into a pot and carried it indoors. Why not. And sometime in the winter it bore two peppers and they have been hanging in there for months now. Delightful as they are, we cannot decide if we should eat the peppers or keep them on the plant, as mementos of a better time (weatherwise).
Okay, okay. Breakfast. A variation on the usual, but in the beauty of sunshine.
Late, much much later, after work, I drive home by way of the isthmus lakes. Where you can still find a solitary ice fisherman waiting for a fish.
I'm heading home. The sun is still with me. Faint now, but still there, letting me admire that great and magnificent evening sky...
The paths around the farmette aren't entirely free of ice yet and so I help them along, using a sturdy shovel to chip away frozen (but softly so) surfaces. Just to bring us that much closer to... spring.
I'm thinking of spring now. Every single day, it's on my mind. Even though I've got a chunk of life to confront before that.
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My vote-- if you're taking them-- is to eat the peppers! They're the most locally grown peppers you can get right now and they won't last forever!
ReplyDeleteI hope you have a short winter, but I don't imagine crocuses popping up there until right around W's birthday-- the very, very end of March. I also don't imagine us having the short winter we seemed to have arrived to here just three days short of a year ago-- we left Wisconsin and what we arrived in did not feel like Wisconsin... more like we had traveled three or four hundred miles south. But today, with the temperature reading -7C, and with the snow on the ground, it feels like Wisconsin in the middle of February.
I have to admit I have no plants in my house. I used to have plants galore but they died eventually and now I don't have any. I used to have a Christmas cactus and it would bloom right on time for me, I was always amazed at its knowledge of the calendar.
ReplyDeleteEat the pepper - that's MY vote, too.