Ugh. Why is so hard to do something as easy as keeping a journal? And why does the word procrastination have the prefix "pro" in it? Yuck.
I really did cook lots of things between my last post and now, but I have a seven page long list of why I didn't record them. I did pick up a nice pamphlet of bread pudding recipes while I was in Kansas, and threw together a delicious blueberry bread pudding (all organic, picked the blueberries myself on a friend's farm in Gresham) for someone at work's birthday. I also started back at school, working on my MPH, so I guess that is a pretty good excuse.
Tonight I am looking forward to throwing together a dill, feta, and quinoa salad and whipping up some carrot ginger soup (using a recipe from a yogurt company [??], so I have my suspicions about THAT recipe).
As for the mini-farm: we tore everything out but the marigolds, lavender, alyssum, blueberry plant, and some random carrots that the gopher had not eaten yet. We busted up the paths we had established and tossed cover crop over the whole thing (from Territorial Seed). The baby cover crops are already growing like gangbusters, which is why I will need to go water tonight after this odd warm spell we have been having.
We sheet mulched the outer paths (some of them, anyway) and threw down bark, so the path should stay nice all winter. All we have left to do: finish the rest of the outer paths and do something about the mess of uprooted plants! Almost 1/8 of the plot is a giant mountain of everything that we took out. I cannot bare to toss out all the nutrients in that pile! That is straight up fertility I don't want to lose. I am holding out until we have the money to afford the Compost Wizard Junior so I can get some browns and compost that pile! I am sure it is rotting something awful right now, and all sorts of things are probably living in it. Oh, well, better than sending to the trash. And since our plot neighbors have grown nothing but weeds all season, they hardly have any grounds for complaint.
I'm happy that my soil is going to chillax for the winter under its nice warm blankie of rye and vetch and things. G'nite, sweet soil, see you in the spring!
