Sunday, August 25, 2024

Little White Stars


 The ferny-leaved stems grew all summer until they covered the fence in a delicate green blanket. Then one day, small stars began to open, a few here and there. They don’t form clusters. Instead, they scatter themselves, becoming daytime stars in a green sky. They are not showy, just a small interruption in that swath of green. Just enough to add punctuation to this leafy wall. 

Sunday, August 18, 2024

Fair Ride At Night


 All over the country, it's fair time. Our little local fair has no livestock, not even the racing piglets that were always so popular. So the main draws are the carnival-type rides. When the sun goes down, even a small county fair takes on a magical air. I am happy to just stand in the midst of all the blinking lights and enjoy the changing colors and patterns. But please, don’t try to get me on anything that swings way up in the air. Once a chicken, always a chicken.

Sunday, August 11, 2024

Summer Calico Sky

People get up early to see the sun rise. They gather in special places to watch sunsets.  Calico skies are different. You can't necessarily plan ahead for one, but on certain lucky days, there it is, an inestimable yardage of cerulean blue, patterned in white from horizon to horizon. If you are lucky, all this blue will be anchored by a garden. If such a sky appears, stay outside a while and enjoy it.

 

Sunday, August 4, 2024

Cabbage

Cabbages are sturdy, unglamorous vegetables. They are usually destined to become the kinds of dishes cooked by grandmothers rather than haute cuisine chefs. They can be as big as a basketball, with a petticoat of capacious outer leaves.  The inner leaves hug the head, each one ending in a delicate ruffle, fancy as the lacy edges of Marie Antoinette's gowns. The rippled, ruffly finish that we can achieve with a serger is known as a "lettuce edge" but I propose that it should actually be called a "cabbage edge."