Saturday, July 2, 2016

Farm to City...

Saturday July 2, 4:49 p.m.

Dear Diary...

This morning my daughter and I shopped for peaches, watermelon, and tomatoes, green beans, tomatoes, shelled lima beans and peas--all good for an upcoming Independence Day. A local farmers market, replete with live music, is new to our neighborhood, brought on, I suppose, by the current farm to table craze that everyone seems to have adopted.

I even tried a small garden myself this year; my brain had temporarily blocked out the markers of failure--the deer that prevail here, pesky squirrels and chipmunks, soil of clay and red clods, and cut worms as big as my thumb who like Big Beef tomato foliage as well as I like the fruit! There is still a smidge of hope if blooms are an indicator: I've added an aluminum pie pan and a flapping plastic bag which may get me kicked out of the neighborhood, along with a fence, alas, not fine enough to keep rabbits out; therefore, my singular Jubilee watermelon plant and the Heirloom cantaloupe are blooming like crazy all over the garden spot.

This day was to be all about shopping for happy weekend for grilling out and making ice cream by the gallon in a freezer. But I had my mother-in-law coming, so what would I serve for dinner tonight that would be simple after all the planning/shopping? The good old standard fruity chicken salad would be easy.

I've boiled the chicken breasts, bone-in, chopped that and the celery, halved the green grapes, toasted a few pecans, chopped those, drained mandarin oranges, mixed some sour cream, mayo, and Italian dressing mix--did I leave anything out? My initial taste said something was missing.

The chicken salad knows: I'm unhappy. A mother can only be as happy as her unhappiest child.

The chicken salad knows: I'm frustrated. My blogspot has been out of whack and I've had to add three upgrades to my computer, and this is the first effort at a post in months.

The chicken salad knows: I really wanted the taste of fresh veggies with warm cornbread tonight.

With a bit of luck, I may get this blog actually posted and available. And once the dressing has time to sink in, the chicken salad may be edible. And if that doesn't work, I'll slice that Jubilee II watermelon. "Whatever," I begged of the happy, if hot and weary seller of farm produce, "happened to the original Jubilee, the best-tasting watermelon in Alabama?"

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