Nov. 17th, 2013 05:07 pm
Seasons' change
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muckefuckJust finished what will probably be the last cup of fresh mint tea of the year. Or will it? The latest forecasts show mild weather ahead, with only one day dropping below freezing--and the plants have already survived a week of that. Still, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu thought it wise to harvest whatever looked up to snuff, which is why we're having mesclun greens and mint in the salad and parsley and thyme in the frittata.
I was still bringing it in as the skies began spitting again. We had good luck: It was overcast and windy but also balmy and dry as we headed down to meet Scruffy for brunch, and the weather held until we could make it back home. In fact, I even had time to do a little cleanup in the garden plot and on the porch. Within the hour, however, it was pouring complete with pea-sized hail. Two hours after that, it was sunny, calm, and a little cooler, so I lured the Old Man to Devon for some food shopping. I wanted to put off snipping the greens as long as possible, but when I saw it getting dark forty-five minutes before statutory sunset, I hurried outside. I was still ripping up mint when the first drops hit.
Earlier, as I was tearing out some of the autumn-blooming clematis, I was also hacking away the English ivy that had become entwined with it. Then it occurred to me to spare it for another month so we can make use of it in our Christmas decorations. Only I seem to recall some old superstition about bringing ivy into the house during the winter--something about ghosts nestling in it and hitching a ride indoors. Maybe we can just use it in a wreath. Or maybe in the midst of more inhospitably rough weather I'll welcome the company.
monshu thought it wise to harvest whatever looked up to snuff, which is why we're having mesclun greens and mint in the salad and parsley and thyme in the frittata.I was still bringing it in as the skies began spitting again. We had good luck: It was overcast and windy but also balmy and dry as we headed down to meet Scruffy for brunch, and the weather held until we could make it back home. In fact, I even had time to do a little cleanup in the garden plot and on the porch. Within the hour, however, it was pouring complete with pea-sized hail. Two hours after that, it was sunny, calm, and a little cooler, so I lured the Old Man to Devon for some food shopping. I wanted to put off snipping the greens as long as possible, but when I saw it getting dark forty-five minutes before statutory sunset, I hurried outside. I was still ripping up mint when the first drops hit.
Earlier, as I was tearing out some of the autumn-blooming clematis, I was also hacking away the English ivy that had become entwined with it. Then it occurred to me to spare it for another month so we can make use of it in our Christmas decorations. Only I seem to recall some old superstition about bringing ivy into the house during the winter--something about ghosts nestling in it and hitching a ride indoors. Maybe we can just use it in a wreath. Or maybe in the midst of more inhospitably rough weather I'll welcome the company.