We didn't pick the flowers

Procrastination is starting to pay off handsomely around here. I might even have to entertain the thought (ahem) of making it a habit.



You see... there were these flowers, on these plants, that didn't make it to the garden but ended up potted in Styrofoam cups in the house, because we sort of had a terrific Spring flood.

I'm finding that too much water is a great excuse for a lot of things.

The plants have been happy ever after underneath gro-lights in our back entryway. When I noticed the flowers, I knew they needed to be picked off. Really, I knew. These are going to be outdoor plants, not indoor plants. But like so many things around here, it just didn't happen, which meant that something else happened.


{one was tired of waiting for mom to get her camera}

Because we didn't pick the flowers...



My kids got to pick a very special treat for breakfast this morning.

And yes, whenever we get around to getting these tucked into a new home outside, I will pick every flower and fruit off of them. I know...



You Capture - Flowers
KinderGARDENS week 6

And!

Those of you who are interested in photography might want to check back again soon, because I have a teensy little giveaway coming up that may just slightly interest you. Something small and insignificant, like a lifetime membership to a certain photography forum. You know, that fabulous one that starts with "click" and ends with "moms".

Yeah, I just said that.

For real.

I could tell you the dollar value of this prize. But the honest truth? It's priceless.

Soon!

A Kinderwhat?

I promised our kids their very own swamp this year.

Garden. I meant... their own garden. Excuse me.

The kids are old enough.

The boys love everything garden related. I have a slight obsession with growing things, which means they're immersed in it year round. Kids are more willing to try new foods when they've planted the seed, watched it come alive, and harvested it with their own two grubby hands. But it's so much more than that. It's a whole magnificent experience.

The Bean is old enough now to destroy everything help too, which is very exciting.



We have big dreams.

Dreaming is just as important as seeds or healthy soil. I won't let my kids miss out on that.

One of our boys is obsessed with mazes, so we're planning a simple corn maze. When they saw the photos my friend Kirsten posted of her kiddo's bean tunnel, well, it absolutely had to go on the list too.

We have the space.

Last year I had three garden plots. Every Spring we seem to dig up yet another (higher) garden because someone is too impatient for the (lower) swamps gardens to dry out. Every year we have more water than we did the previous year, and... here we are solidly into May and I find myself eyeballing the space between my apple trees.

Everything is still soggy, except the barn, which means three things:

1. Our neighbors (who are real farmers and the kindest people in the world) can't get into their fields, which means my barn is already wearing it's shiny new roof.

2. The jungle is temporarily in the house.



Please notice the very professional use of oatmeal and baking soda in our lighting set up.



We even potted up twenty five strawberry plants because I was unsure how long they could stay refrigerated. I've never ever been unhappy to find a package of plants in the mail, until the day they arrived.



3. The Bean has been busy practicing her "helping" skills.



We're excited to document the journey along with the others at The Inadvertent Farmer. I discovered this project too late last year to join in, and it's been in the back of my mind all winter. Although, while everyone else has KinderGARDENS, we're more likely to have a Kinderswamp. We still have hope!

It snowed. A lot. Again.

Scavenger Hunt at Ashley's!

1. Time

There is about 2.5 seconds of time between when the Bean wakes up grumpy from her nap...



... and when she decides to "Eee Heeeeeeee!?" (see kitty)



2. Poetry

I could post a self portrait where I pretend that I have quiet moments to read.



Or I could be totally honest and get out my word magnets, and make up a fantastic little poem straight from the depths of my heart.



Really. We got another twelve or so inches of snow. It's the middle of April.

Enough already.

3. Outside

Assuming all this snow melts and we don't get any more, and assuming my garden swamp dries out sometime before July, my seedlings will go outside.

I realize that might be assuming too much.



More likely the Bean will see them from approximately this angle as she decides to grab one and dump it all over the floor.

Don't ask me how I know.

4. Zoom!

From my archives, taken the end of February.



5. Isolation

I can't decide. I can't decide.

I'll post them both.



Both taken Friday evening.

The revenge of José

Since some of you have an emotional investment in José Jalapeño, I thought it would be considerate of me to finish his story. You'll thank me later, perhaps.

(You can read about him here. Also click here, to see his adorable baby pictures.)

José had been looking terribly delicious lately. My oldest boy wanted the honor of picking him. Really, I wanted to pick him, but you know how it goes when you're a mom.


He did a great job.

With José in hand, we realized just how small he was.

No problem, my youngest boy wanted to wield the kitchen shear too. I can't blame him. This was a ton of fun (keep in mind that we don't have a television).

With two hands on the weapon, a three-year-old boy's assault on the jalapeño plant began.

He aimed for the largest one,


and missed.

The tiniest one was set free instead and went bouncing across the room.

The child was determined. It appeared that he didn't even notice his first victim and pressed on towards his goal. It took a few minutes, but he finally returned victorious to the kitchen.

They smelled as amazing as they looked (the jalapeños, not my boys).


I chopped them up, thinking I would need to remember that my hands would be like fire to any mucous membrane for the rest of the day. Specifically, I wondered how I would safely change the baby's diaper.

But there it was, ready for the broiler.


Don't look at my ugly plate, I have much more handsome ones but they can't go in the oven. Well, actually they could, but it might be exciting in a bad sort of way.

Into the broiler it went.

And then? I don't even want to say it, but you know it's true.

I touched my eye.

My left eye. The one I need to make an appointment for because I think my tear duct is blocked. For real.

I didn't realize it for a few microseconds, of course. I grabbed my eye and quite honestly don't remember what I said, but my husband stood there staring at me like I was an alien. I quickly turned the broiler off because gosh darn it I am not going to ruin these chips! And went racing for the bathroom sink and ran lots of cold water into my poor eye that cannot wet itself.

It was like strolling down memory lane, except in a very painful way. Don't worry, you're coming with.

The last time I had ice-cold water running over my eyes, it was in my previous life in the exciting world of biotech.

I had isopropyl alcohol that contained human brain DNA splash all over my face. It was in my eyes, up my nose and in my mouth. It's true, people, I swear. The doctor at the walk-in-clinic told me I won his strange and unusual case for the day, hands down. And believe me, his day was nowhere near over.

Those of you who don't know me in real life, I truly am a walking disaster-waiting-to-happen. I don't want to believe in the theory of parallel universes. I can only imagine the kind of destruction I may have caused by now, although the theory fascinates me to no end.

After José had his way with me, I was pleasantly surprised to find that my eye didn't hurt. It was just nice and warm, in a numb kind of way.

I went back and got the broiler going.


You know what, honestly? Totally worth all the drama.

Amazing.

I grew a jalapeño (a bunch of them actually), in my house, during our frozen winter, and I ate it. I did share with my husband which might even be a bigger miracle.

Truly, I am a rebel if there ever was one.


But after what I went through to do it, I really turned the event into an indulgence. Now that was pure perfection.

Fresh jalapeños

Last fall I experimented with something.

I had an amazing pepper plant that I harvested twenty-two green peppers off of at one time. The frustrating thing was that I pulled them all because we were to have a frost that night. I really wanted to leave them on until I had red peppers, not green ones.

Someone then suggested (luckily before our frost) that I dig the whole plant up and invite it into my home to be a houseplant.

All. Winter. Long.

Peppers can live for years in warmer climates. Who knew?

If I start this Spring with last year's fully grown plant, I likely will get my red peppers!

So I dug up my pepper. Then I looked over and saw one of my jalapeño plants. Why stop now? While I potted them, a sweet hen named Penny sat on my shoulder. I wish I had a picture of that.

I was warned not to expect them to produce fruit in the house, we just don't get enough light for that. The goal was to keep these plants alive until winter was over, and then send them back to the garden.

The jalapeño, particularly, has been a fabulous houseplant. It's leaves are small and dainty, and it doesn't insist on bolting straight up toward the ceiling like the pepper does.

And look what happened!


Yet that one wasn't the first. I was so excited about the first one I named him José.

José Jalapeño. It was a joke for my mother.

Oh, nevermind.

Neither of these two is José, either.


Oh, goodness! There is another tiny one above them!

But José, he has been hanging around for over two months now.

I rather like him. He brightened my dreary long winter, and gave me the joy of watching something green grow.

Somehow, in just the last two days he has become a really colorful character.


My relationship with José Jalapeño is going to come to an extremely delicious end very soon. Of that I am certain.

Also, I am certain you will not find a jalapeño fresher than José. It can't be done.

You Capture - Fresh

February jalapenos

When, oh when will I ever learn?

These tiny shriveled things look so innocent.

Do not be deceived! And certainly, don't ask me how I know!


Their size is inversely proportional to their fire.

When will I learn that the tiniest little bit of dried jalapeno is way more than enough to get the job done?

It's just that they're so pretty... and I grew them and picked them and cut them up and dried them! AND they are so much fun to cook with!

I overdo it every time. There isn't much left either, so I really should go easy on them.

Sigh.

See this beautiful, way bigger than in real life, mostly out of focus photograph of a flower?


That is a jalapeno flower. Actually, it's the mother plant my overachieving sneaky dried ones came from.

I took that photo today, in February.

Yes, here in the frozen prairie.

I dug that plant and also a sweet bell pepper from my garden before frost last fall, and they currently sit happily in my warm living room. They can live for years in warmer climates.

Apparently earthworms also like to overwinter in the house. But that, my friends, is a story for another day.

Just think how overachieving that crazy plant will be when I put it back out in the garden this spring. At least I hope so, if everything goes well.

And...

I put my camera lens on backwards for that shot.

Seriously!

Ever tried that? HOLY MACRO!

Just don't try it with your 50mm f/1.8. Yeah, a depth of field that is pretty much absolutely impossible to deal with. I will have to go digging through my closet for my crappy old kit lens.

It may be useful for something, after all.