Warty Gourds

I'm obsessed with gourds lately. I had this idea to grow gourds and let the vines climb our old, unused swingset so they would be hanging in the air. The first summer I grew 'warty gourds' -- they sort of remind you of the peasants working in the field in a Monty Python movie. One year later, I have a big basket of warty gourds that I have de-mildewed with bleach and a scrub brush, and I'm trying to think of things to make with them. In the meantime, this year I grew bottle gourds that now hang from the swingset and the crab-apple tree... those vines really love to climb. They have taken over the languishing tomato plants and infiltrated the ivy, many feet of vine supporting about 18 curvy green fruits. My gourd fantasies are running wild. I can make bird houses, bowls, baskets. I can carve and burn and paint designs into them. And I've got a whole year, while they dry, to lay out my plans.

Brigadier

Brigadier, the big blonde dog in the picture, disappeared from the yard well over a year ago. I still start thinking of him sometimes and wonder where he is now.

Brigadier

Brigadier, our scruffy bounder
Huge and skinny fifty-pounder
Blanketed with tangled fur
Streaking past us in a blur
Chasing squirrels with careless glee
Full of happy energy
Rolling over in the dust
Tempted once with wanderlust.

That day Brig did not come back;
Disappeared without a track.
How we looked, but never found him,
Calling, searching, looking 'round.
Brigadier, our precious pup,
It's just so hard to give you up.
It pains to wonder where you are,
Alive or dead, near or far.

I hope, somewhere, you live it up,
Brigadier, our precious pup.

twenty-something tomatoes

There are twenty-something tomatoes on the kitchen counter. What to do with them all? One time I froze some tomatoes -- whole -- just put them in the freezer in a bag. They were like balls of ice, and sounded like pool balls when they clunked into each other. Turned mushy when thawed out... but still good for cooking.

Tomatoes

I don't know exactly what to do with a blog now that I've done the fill-in-the-blank profile. This text box is large and scary. Intimidating.

I have wonderful red tomatoes bloating up in my garden. Getting in the car yesterday, I glanced over at the garden and saw two of them I had missed, glowing under the greenery. Couldn't wait to get back home and pick them. We've been making juicy tomato sandwiches with mayo on homemade bread. You just don't get tomatoes with that rich purple-red flesh at Schnucks. The juice drips down your chin while you eat.