Caged dandelions.
The vegetable that look like a green cauliflower is called romanesco. It appears to be a cross between broccoli and cauliflower. It is a favourite in the Plutarch family, liked as much for the generosity of its flavour as for its unexpected colour when compared with its palid brassica cousin. I tried to grow it a few years back, but pigeons nibbled the leaves and the "flowers" turned out to be no more than meagre spikes like inferior broccoli. I am encouraged to try again by a stall holder at the Farmers Market. "Needs lots of water," she says. So I try again. Today I set out the plants which I grew from seed. I water them in thoroughly soaking the holes I have made before putting in the seedlings. The morning is still clear and sunny. Perhaps this evening the promised rain will come and conclude my work settling the roots deep in the soil.
I am on the last page of my current notebook. Although I refrain from dating entries - foolish because the book becomes useless as a record - I do know that this one began on June 28 2011. As I look back over the pages I wonder at some enigmatic observations which must have meant something at the time made them. "Lime in bag: compulsive honesty" intrigues. As does "Fence. Heads glide above it." For some reason I like "man walks across field with purposeful stride," if only because in my mind he is still crossing the field. Though in reality he is almost certainly somewhere else.
1 comment:
Even sadder (since they purported to be evidence of my profession) were my reporter's notebooks.
Sometimes, when squeezed in a crush, I only had time to write in the interviewee's answers. Thus "Yes" and/or "No" but with no idea what the question was.
Post a Comment