I confess, I didn't write last night. I stayed up late watching a movie instead. Then I nearly forgot that I had a haircut appointment this morning before work so I raced into some clothes and zoomed across town to the salon. Once I got here and opened the store, it's been very quiet; my day came to a screeching halt, except for the pair of dive buddies who just brought me six tanks to fill. Thanks, Ray and Dennis! Durwood just called asking me to stop at the Hispanic market not far from here to get some chocho for supper. Mmm, yum, I love chocho and carrots. Chocho's a kind of squash usually called chayote in Hispanic markets but we learned to love it in Anguilla where it's called chocho or christophine. It's pale green, shaped like an avocado, and the flesh looks like zucchini but it's firmer, like carrots. You peel it with a carrot peeler, cut out the big seed/pit, slice it, and steam it in the micro with an equal amount of carrots. That's the main way we eat it but you can put it in all kinds of other things too. We're always happy to find another vegetable. I shoved my notebook in my backpack to bring along to work but neglected to put in the island calender page so I trolled my brain and decided to follow the Pens Fatales lead from last week and write about a garden. I didn't get very far but at least I got words on a page.
May 4--Old Garden. Maren moved into the old Clemmons house on a chilly day in early spring. She had bought the place on a whim when it went up for sale after the last spinster Clemmons daughter passed away over the winter. Maren had loved the old Victorian house with its wrought iron fence and tall trees for years. She had been amazed at the reasonable price and the fact that no one else bid on it. Now it was hers. She spent a few weeks unpacking cartons of books, dishes, and linens and trying to make her meager belongings fill the spaces. Each day the awakening of the gardens around the house lured her to abandon her cleaning and arranging in the stuffy house to be outside watching the pink noses of peonies nudge aside last autumn's leaves and the curls of ostrich ferns unfurl.
Now I've got a guy in the changing room wrestling his way into and out of some wetsuits (trying on wetsuits is a bit like aerobics class without music) so I should really wrap this up.