3 Lbs. Is A Lot Of Onions

I'm making slow cooker WW French Onion Soup and the onions caramelize in the crockpot for 10 hours (on High, no less!) so I get them all sliced and into the pot so that they can be cooking their way to nirvana overnight.  Then it takes about 3 more hours to finish the job.  It's really good soup, even if the WW way doesn't have a toasted and cheese covered baguette slice on top, only a half-tablespoon of Parm sprinkled on the soup.  Still, it's very tasty and a whole lot better than nothing.



As predicted I spent most of the afternoon planting flowers in pots on the privacy fence, the side of the patio, and in an old park bench, and in planters on the edge of the patio.  While I was planting the petunias in the planters in front of the bird feeders I kept hearing buzzing.  Thinking it was a bumblebee I looked up to see the female hummingbird about an arm's length away coming to the feeder for a drink.  There was no earthly way I could snap her photo but I did love sitting there watching her tiny self hovering and then landing to drink from the feeder.  Cool.



 
I also poked the last 25 or so onion sets into the east-facing side of the first row of bales.  I'm thinking that they'll grow just fine there and will be convenient for picking to put into cooking.  Some rascally rabbit (I think) is eating my herbs.  This is the first time that has happened and I don't like it.  I'm not sure how to deter it (or them) but I plan to google it tomorrow.

Once I was done in back I move to the front where I planted a couple "hens and chicks" into Dad's old work boots and some coleus into the black plastic cauldrons that line the front of the house.  Durwood loved coleus and coleus loves growing in those pots every summer.  I love the colorful patterns on the leaves.  It's a win-win-win.

 


Before going out to plant I finished May Preemie Hat #4.  I know I usually make colorful ones but I grabbed this white and thought it'd look nice, so I used it.  Don't want to be too predictable.


And because I can't stop making things, I hauled up some fabric when I went down for the slow cooker and cut out another Dress no. 1 out of black floral linen blend tonight.  I initially wanted to cut one out of some denim I have on hand but I'm about half a yard short--and of course I bought it way too long ago for there to be a hope that there's more in any store.  But.  I have some darker denim downstairs which is also not enough to make a Dress no. 1 so, once I iron the dark blue denim, I'll cut the front out of the lighter denim, the back out of the darker denim, and the pockets out of a little scrap of bug fabric I scrounged up.  It's supposed to rain all day tomorrow so maybe I'll get some sewing done instead of just building up my "to sew" pile.



Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that the lilacs are blooming.  When I went outside I couldn't figure out what smelled so good but then realized that the breeze was coming from the side of the yard where the lilacs are.  Mmm.  It's too bad that they bloom for such a short length of time.




There was another asparagus spear for me to have for supper.  Yum.







26 May--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

I walked around the yard pruning and clipping with my favorite little shears, then strolled through the garden, ending up at the back door with the makings of a salad for lunch.  In honor of signing up for painting class, I pulled out a pretty glass plate and spent some time arranging the tossed greens, sprinkling chopped fresh herbs, laying on slices of tomato and fresh mozzarella, and adding just a touch more vinaigrette.  The recipe for the dressing was courtesy of Carrie’s Provencal period.

After lunch, I pulled the recipe for my mom’s bread-and-butter pickles out of the old wooden box.  It made me smile to see Mom’s handwriting so many years after her passing.  I remembered her sitting at the table night after night in the months before my wedding.  Mom said she wanted to “start our new bride off with a good store of man-pleasing recipes.”  And the pickles made from that recipe had please Pop for years.  I thought of all the hot fall days we’d spent in the kitchen canning vegetables and fruits for winter.  Even as a girl, the rows of gleaming jars gave me a satisfied feeling.

The wooden recipe box brought back memories too.  While Mom was writing out all the recipes, Pop was making the box.  I loved how every dovetail was precisely the same size.  I pictured Pop’s rough farmer’s hands smoothing the wood and fitting the joints.  Even after all these years, I could still smell the oil he had painstakingly rubbed into the wood to give it a rich glow.  Of all the things I had of Mom and Pop’s, this box, this bridal gift, and its treasure of recipes and memories meant the most.

The clock just chimed 11 o'clock.  It's time for me to say goodnight.  Have you noticed that my intention to get to bed by 10 hasn't become a reality?  Me too.  I just can't seem to get here to blog early enough to make that happen.  Oh well, at least I don't have to get up to go to work.
--Barbara