Fresh, fabulous figs

We waited longer for figs than for a baby. The latter took just under 3 years; the former, more than 25. And this year, booyah!, we have figs. Figs to eat out of hand, figs to freeze for making preserves and figs to cook. Assuming figs grew in Eden (fig leaves, remember?), why would anyone leave,… Continue reading Fresh, fabulous figs

Hot southern mess

We’re currently experiencing the nastiest weather of the summer. Think Amazonian rain forest-African jungle heat and humidity. I’ve said (so many times) before: I hate Southern summers, love the food. Today’s lunch was the last of our sweet corn, the first of our field peas, some of Stoic’s perfect tomatoes and a neighbor’s honey-sweet cantalope.… Continue reading Hot southern mess

Just say no?; grilled romaine

My Mother speaks. If  you don’t believe in those things, how are you going to stay sober? Every time I want to drink or do drugs, I’m going to make the decision not to do them. I’ll keep making that decision until it’s no longer a decision, but a way of life. Originally marketed as… Continue reading Just say no?; grilled romaine

My poems are in jars

My poems are in jars I keep saying I’m going to do another kind of writing The kind that involves stanzas and tropes But then the strawberries come in at Howards’. In the silken sunrise One picker’s pink sweats, another’s shirt And the ripening berries Stand out like traffic lights. The sweet smell in the… Continue reading My poems are in jars