1298g

For some time now I’ve been watching the progress of my cucumbers from the grass, not venturing into their row, not wanting to get wet from a recently rain-soaked patch perhaps, or not wanting to disturb any frogs that might be hidden under the massive fronds of the carrots in the next row. Or, much more likely, I thought I could see everything I needed to see from where I was. Except that last night I went and looked among the foliage of my cucumbers and discovered a previously unseen cucumber that had meanwhile surreptitiously grown to the size of my neck.

So this morning I picked the heavyweight cucurbit along with the middleweight one I’d been expecting to pick anyway. Anyone need any cucumber? Come to our fridge! There’ll you’ll also find a handful of runner beans – or itchy beans, as they should be known. Those vines always make my arms and hands itchy and if I’m particularly lucky on the “proof of suffering” front, I also get a red rash up my arms from them.

Three more beetroot have come up, ready for sandwiches. One of the three kept getting nibbled by something in the garden. So either ha, ha, I took away your beetroot, or, oh damn, does this mean you’re going to eat everything else now? Just keep away from my tomatoes. They’re not ripe yet, though lots of them are definitely no longer green, and it looks like I might have a pretty good harvest from them in a while.

The final veg in the trug came from the first row of carrots. A good number of them are showing big fat tops above the soil, but of course I can’t see down into the soil to see how the roots are developing (damn you, science!). I carefully dug up two that were close to their neighbours, scraping away at the soil and firmly wiggling them like loose teeth before they finally let go and I was able to get an idea of their lengths. They’re not bad, but the rest can stay snug in the ground for a little while yet.

Click the photo for the latest from the patch

Good service

I chose not to have a dessert at the Napoli Italian restaurant last night. I was so full of garlic bread, caprese salad with amazing mozzarella and the strascinato pasta with chicken, ham and cherry tomatoes. The idea of adding two or three scoops of ice cream or sorbet on top of the rather large food baby I was now carrying did not appeal. I was already sitting up incredibly straight, that being the only way to fit my expanded stomach in at the table.

We had been entertained the entire evening by our exuberant waiter, who was rather enjoying playing host to a table of young ladies. Lauren and Suzy ordered sorbets and he soon brought them along. As he placed Lauren’s lemon sorbet down in front of her, opposite me, I noticed a heart dusted onto the corner of the dish in cocoa. “Hey, that’s favouritism!” I objected. Profuse and dramatic apologies followed, with the promise to practically give me his own heart next time I visited. I accepted his apology and went back to sucking on the lemon slices I’d somewhat indecorously collected from all the glasses on our table.

A few minutes later he was back and put a plate in front of me, saying in his thick Italian accent, “I made this for you!” He’d brought me a scoop of strawberry ice cream, a squirdle of whipped cream, a couple of wafers and, of course, a cocoa heart.

Summer’s still here

Swallows gathering could be said to mark the approach of the end of summer, but I took these shots from my front door ten days ago and when I look outside my window now I still see blue skies.

These swallows have made a few appearances in front of the house, gathering on the phone wires, before suddenly all swooping off, startled by a loud noise, and then returning to settle again, their wings forming beautiful shapes in the sky.

[Click for the set]

Going out to eat is such a CHORE

RIGHT. After much studying of the online menu I have decided that I shall have the same starter as Lauren tomorrow. And she will order first to allow me to copy her pronunciation. Because I did not take Italian lessons. I took German, dropped it and now ten years later run a bilingual web site about an Austrian. All of which probably means I’m going to marry an Italian.

But anyway, now I can’t decide between the following for my main:

Rigatoni che Puparuoli
With mixed peppers, tomatoes and parmesan cheese in a cream sauce

Strascinato alla Cacciatora
Fresh pasta with strips of chicken, Italian bacon, onions & cherry tomatoes

I eventually took the Particelli one out of the running because THE INTERNET COULD NOT TELL ME WHAT PARTICELLI WAS. I put the dish title into a translator and it told me that I’d be eating Particles of the Mount. I do not want to eat Particles of the Mount. Unless one of you is about to tell me that the Mount is very yummy when eaten one particle at a time.

I know what rigatoni is. The interweb is ambiguous with its definition and illustration of strascinato, but I think it might win.

Hmm. I still have 24 hours to dwell on it.

I wonder what I should have to drink?

The mundane of today

No sign of the postman, but two guys on a quad bike came round earlier, spraying weedkiller into the gutters. I had microwaved canneloni for tea and discovered on eating it in front of an old episode of CSI that yes, that was the ready meal I’d previously decided not to bother with again. It was so hot today that the leaves on my cucumber plants wilted in the sun. Later in the day I gave the patch a good soaking from the hose and filled up the pond. I also discovered that unreeling and reeling in the hose is one billion times easier when Mum’s car isn’t in the way. I’ve just been outside, sitting in the not quite warm air. I’d hidden inside all day, stuck as usual to one screen or another and was determined to be outside at least for a moment. Perhaps one of these days I’ll manage such a move when the sun is still shining. My hair is in two plaits. My long hair felt ok on my neck during the heat of the day, but I fancied a change. I think I look better with short hair, but now it’s long going short again is A Big Thing for this hairdresser wuss. There are some noisy boys outside. And now … quiet.

Mine’s eight inches

286g of cucumber, with more like this one still coming on the plants. I see a week of Philadelphia and cucumber sandwiches ahead. I could even add in some freshly harvested beetroot, if I was feeling wild. The runner beans I’ve picked would be better for dinner though, I think. I’ve got some good stuff growing in the patch now and even the sweetcorn is showing signs of producing cobs.

Something has also been kind enough to continue my theme of Things I Didn’t Plant And Yet Are Growing: I found a chrysalis tucked up inside in a silk cocoon on the underside of a beetroot leaf. The leaf and its resident are now indoors in a jam jar in my office, where I occasionally turn from my computer to make sure that the chrysalis hasn’t opened without me noticing and that there isn’t now a big monster behind me about to eat my head without so much as a “how do you do?”

Click for the set

I have a cute trug and don’t care who knows it

What? I told you it was all about vegetables from now on. Just you wait til winter. Then it’ll be knitting and the occasional head cold.

Anyway, the first harvest has been made. We’ve had two beetroot and a number of runner beans. I looked in my book to discover why a lot of flowers have fallen off and not formed beans. The explanation seemed to be, “Pfft, *shrug*”. Try growing a white-flowered variety, it says. But the red ones are so pretty!

The cucumbers continue to grow like mad things and the fruits have grown cunning sharp spines to ward off slugs. And perhaps also the people who are trying to measure them with their My Little Pony ruler.