How quickly a brand new experience can morph into a habit! Six weeks ago, I knew nothing about curbside pick-ups or shopping for food on line, to say nothing of disinfecting containers of berries, or parsley inconveniently packed in a plastic bag. Now? I'm becoming a pro.
As it happens, much of this weird new shopping fell on us on this morning. My schedule would have struck me as bizarre just two months ago. At 8 a.m., we were to pick up any pre-purchased Farmers Market goods. (That early slot is handed over to people with a last name that is toward the front of the alphabet.) At 10 -- we have a drive to Verona, to a grocery store that gave us this curbside pickup time for anything we put into the basket all week long. For us, it's a great supplemental grocery run. At 11:15 we're expected for a pickup of our prepaid perennial flowers from the Flower Factory.
So how did it all work out?
First of all, forget the Farmers Market (for now). And indeed, we may give up on it this year altogether. The set up is such that you have to drive up to each farmer and load up on prepurchased foods. Rumor has it that the waits are hours long. Our alternatives? First, I'm in communication with several farmers to see if other drop off possibilities are in the offering. Too, we have signed up with Harmony Valley Farms for their Community Supported Agriculture produce. We will be getting thirty boxes of food, spread out from May through December. You get what you get and you don't get upset (this is a quote from Snowdrop's dance teacher; she says it each time she hands out dance props to girls who inevitably have their hearts set on landing a certain favorite). Ed asked if we would for sure use up all the boxed produce. I smiled at that. He and I eat vegetables like there's no tomorrow. A bunch of asparagus? Gone in one setting. Broccoli bundles? Never a leftover. And so on.
The upside of having given up on the "driveup market" is that we can sleep in! Ed seizes the opportunity! I have to call him several times to say that breakfast is ready and our curbside pick up is waiting for us in Verona.
The Verona trip goes well. We get most of the items we ordered. I see that yeast is again a prized commodity, but no matter. We're not baking bread. Yet.
I scramble to transfer foods and wash the frozen stuff before dumping it in the freezer. This used to be challenging. It's become routine. Our mudroom looks like a restaurant storage closet, with foods sorted by date of acquisition.
Finally -- the trip to the Flower Factory. This is super nostalgic for me. It may well be my last trip there ever, as they are closing down after this season and by the looks of it, they've already cut back their stock considerably. Because of the pandemic, they are only doing curbside pickups. This, of course, is the right way to do business at the moment. Nonetheless, it's a bit of a sad trip. Going to the Flower Factory in late April was a rite of passage for me for some thirty plus years. It was thrilling to walk through the hoop houses and to study the hundreds, indeed, as the business grew -- thousands of flower varieties. I learned so much from just walking, looking, chatting to the owners and staff.
Today, there were just a few tables, with boxes of prepurchased perennials...
And this dude, loading your trunk up with your flowers.
Thank you, Flower Factory, for decades of flowers. Our beds have a lot of you in them!
So is it time to plant yet? A little today...
A lot tomorrow. I'm waiting for the warm up. 53F (11C) is not good enough for a long outdoor spell. I'm aiming for at least 60F (15C) and some sunshine!
(Feeding the little cats is a challenge these days. I have to sneak a bowl under the car and distract the chickens and scare away the teenage cats.)
As for our moods -- we are hanging in there! Ed's mood is as it was yesterday and as it will be tomorrow. Me, I cry every time I read about something good and kind. I can imagine how much it means to the recipient of that warm gesture. (Call me stoic for tough news, though I do have my limit. Today I told Ed that we cannot have late night discussions of the latest pandemic developments. We simply cannot.)
In the evening -- I take out my ball of pizza dough and get to work. I hear that people have been instagramming photos of their sour dough bread creations. Those who do not like to bake or have no time for it are complaining. I get it. We've actually used a brownie mix, which is very amusing, considering that brownies were probably invented to take the sweat and tears out of baking. Me, I think bread photos are very nice, but we haven't gone there yet, so for now, I'll post a photo of a pizza, with lots of garlic, mushrooms and cheese. Few things, in my mind are more photogenic than melted, slightly browned cheese!
How about drinks? Where do I fall on the continuum? I read that most New Yorkers who do drinks have been purchasing very large quantities of cheap wine. Elsewhere, I see that many are creating beautiful cocktails, reminding us that in these isolating times, any hour can be a happy hour. Both directions are tempting! But on the other hand, if you want to at least try for a fitful sleep, sticking to your old habits probably is best. A kir is as fancy as I get. And a glass of white is enormously satisfying. With a bowl of warm popcorn, sprinkled with freshly grated parmesan. Sometimes the smallest things have the best impact.
Late evening. I heard that in Missoula, Montana, people come out each evening at 8 p.m. and howl like wolves, to honor the health care workers. I like that idea, though if Ed and I howled out here, no one would hear us. So I'll just say a quiet thanks: to the guy who put flowers in our car today. To all those who keep on loading our cars, delivering our stuff, day in, day out. And of course, to our health care staffs. Always remembering our health care workers.
With love.
As it happens, much of this weird new shopping fell on us on this morning. My schedule would have struck me as bizarre just two months ago. At 8 a.m., we were to pick up any pre-purchased Farmers Market goods. (That early slot is handed over to people with a last name that is toward the front of the alphabet.) At 10 -- we have a drive to Verona, to a grocery store that gave us this curbside pickup time for anything we put into the basket all week long. For us, it's a great supplemental grocery run. At 11:15 we're expected for a pickup of our prepaid perennial flowers from the Flower Factory.
So how did it all work out?
First of all, forget the Farmers Market (for now). And indeed, we may give up on it this year altogether. The set up is such that you have to drive up to each farmer and load up on prepurchased foods. Rumor has it that the waits are hours long. Our alternatives? First, I'm in communication with several farmers to see if other drop off possibilities are in the offering. Too, we have signed up with Harmony Valley Farms for their Community Supported Agriculture produce. We will be getting thirty boxes of food, spread out from May through December. You get what you get and you don't get upset (this is a quote from Snowdrop's dance teacher; she says it each time she hands out dance props to girls who inevitably have their hearts set on landing a certain favorite). Ed asked if we would for sure use up all the boxed produce. I smiled at that. He and I eat vegetables like there's no tomorrow. A bunch of asparagus? Gone in one setting. Broccoli bundles? Never a leftover. And so on.
The upside of having given up on the "driveup market" is that we can sleep in! Ed seizes the opportunity! I have to call him several times to say that breakfast is ready and our curbside pick up is waiting for us in Verona.
The Verona trip goes well. We get most of the items we ordered. I see that yeast is again a prized commodity, but no matter. We're not baking bread. Yet.
I scramble to transfer foods and wash the frozen stuff before dumping it in the freezer. This used to be challenging. It's become routine. Our mudroom looks like a restaurant storage closet, with foods sorted by date of acquisition.
Finally -- the trip to the Flower Factory. This is super nostalgic for me. It may well be my last trip there ever, as they are closing down after this season and by the looks of it, they've already cut back their stock considerably. Because of the pandemic, they are only doing curbside pickups. This, of course, is the right way to do business at the moment. Nonetheless, it's a bit of a sad trip. Going to the Flower Factory in late April was a rite of passage for me for some thirty plus years. It was thrilling to walk through the hoop houses and to study the hundreds, indeed, as the business grew -- thousands of flower varieties. I learned so much from just walking, looking, chatting to the owners and staff.
Today, there were just a few tables, with boxes of prepurchased perennials...
And this dude, loading your trunk up with your flowers.
Thank you, Flower Factory, for decades of flowers. Our beds have a lot of you in them!
So is it time to plant yet? A little today...
A lot tomorrow. I'm waiting for the warm up. 53F (11C) is not good enough for a long outdoor spell. I'm aiming for at least 60F (15C) and some sunshine!
(Feeding the little cats is a challenge these days. I have to sneak a bowl under the car and distract the chickens and scare away the teenage cats.)
As for our moods -- we are hanging in there! Ed's mood is as it was yesterday and as it will be tomorrow. Me, I cry every time I read about something good and kind. I can imagine how much it means to the recipient of that warm gesture. (Call me stoic for tough news, though I do have my limit. Today I told Ed that we cannot have late night discussions of the latest pandemic developments. We simply cannot.)
In the evening -- I take out my ball of pizza dough and get to work. I hear that people have been instagramming photos of their sour dough bread creations. Those who do not like to bake or have no time for it are complaining. I get it. We've actually used a brownie mix, which is very amusing, considering that brownies were probably invented to take the sweat and tears out of baking. Me, I think bread photos are very nice, but we haven't gone there yet, so for now, I'll post a photo of a pizza, with lots of garlic, mushrooms and cheese. Few things, in my mind are more photogenic than melted, slightly browned cheese!
How about drinks? Where do I fall on the continuum? I read that most New Yorkers who do drinks have been purchasing very large quantities of cheap wine. Elsewhere, I see that many are creating beautiful cocktails, reminding us that in these isolating times, any hour can be a happy hour. Both directions are tempting! But on the other hand, if you want to at least try for a fitful sleep, sticking to your old habits probably is best. A kir is as fancy as I get. And a glass of white is enormously satisfying. With a bowl of warm popcorn, sprinkled with freshly grated parmesan. Sometimes the smallest things have the best impact.
Late evening. I heard that in Missoula, Montana, people come out each evening at 8 p.m. and howl like wolves, to honor the health care workers. I like that idea, though if Ed and I howled out here, no one would hear us. So I'll just say a quiet thanks: to the guy who put flowers in our car today. To all those who keep on loading our cars, delivering our stuff, day in, day out. And of course, to our health care staffs. Always remembering our health care workers.
With love.
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