Monday was spent doing all the stuff that I didn't get to over the weekend. The usual patchwork of housework, offering of sacrifices to the garden gods, sending out rays of my sardonic sunshine to this mad, mad world and dogpaddling my way through my email box. I didn't get to all of this over the weekend because I was in a epic battle against my nemesis, or at least one of them, The Lawn.
I hate lawns. Lawns are stupid. Lawns are evidence that we are stupid.
We're renting our abode at the moment but when we do buy our bit of paradise, there won't be a speck of lawn. There may be grass, but no lawn.
The Lawn is North America's arrogant pronouncement that he has conquered and enslaved nature. It's his way of showing that he has tamed the wild and made it bend at his will. It is his totem of civilization.
Of course, NA, has it's head so far up its arse that it has caused an gastrointestinal traffic jam. In other words, North America is the source of its constipation but is too blind to see because no matter how much sunshine you blow up there, it's still pretty dark.
Yep, we da man. We da man so therefore we feed, medicate, groom and water something simply to chop off it's head once a week! I don't get it. You can't eat it. It doesn't look all that remarkable and thanks to all the herbicides that it needs, it's more enviromentally harmful than it is beneficial. All it seems to do is tell the whole world, 'I'm so wealthy that I can afford to blow all my time, money and energy on this absolutely useless symbol of affluence.'
I don't get it but I had to mow the lawn because it was getting at the length that it would start harboring snakes, wasp nests and pygmy tribes. If it got any longer, I would have to hire a crew of migrant workers with machetes to take it down. So Saturday morning I popped a couple of antihistamines (of course I'm highly allergic to grass pollen) and went out to tackle The Lawn.
The grass had gotten so long that the gas mower blade kept jamming up. It was a inane dance that went something like this:
...5,6,7,8... take 14 pulls to start up the mower, the mower farts out puff of black smoke and growls awake, take two steps forward and have it jam up, shake and rattle the jammed grass out the blades, sashay the mower to already cut area (because it wouldn't start in the tall grass), and back to the top...6,7,8
I soon figured out that it wouldn't jam as much if I pulled the lawnmower backwards over the grass but this also left swirls of uncut grass. So I pulled the dang lawnmower twice over each pass of lawn.
3 hours later, my right arm aching and sore from constantly trying the start the gas guzzling lawn beast and shoulders and back like pulverized jello from pulling the mower over the lawn twice, I crawled in the shower and washed away the grass pollen, sweat, grime and frustration.
I spent the rest of Saturday recovering from my lawn epic with a pot of tea and an healing afternoon of knitting and an restorative evening of spinning, which is why I was still doing weekend chores yesterday :P
Monday was a total weekend leftovers day. I even finished up some spinning that I had started on Saturday:
It's a Targhee wool that I picked up last summer at the Duncan fibre sale. It's colourway is called 'Active Pass' which is what totally sold me. The kayaker in me couldn't resist such a name. I'm thinking of plying it with a solid cream or chocolate brown.
Dinner was also an affair of leftovers. DH and I went to the gym around 7pm. He went to workout and maintain his jedi powers so he can heal up from his shoulder overhaul. I went to burn off all the extra Energizer Bunny energy I had pent up from a day of puttering.
We got home at half past 8, hungry and tired. From this weekend's leftovers I pulled together a gnocchi with chorizo, spaghetti squash, kale and spinach. The greens were from the garden, the rest was bits and pieces residing in the tupperware condo in the back of my fridge. All of it island grown, of course.
In less than ten minutes we had this:
Dessert was the last pieces of a rhubarb, apple and cranberry pie I made over the weekend.
The fruit is all island grown. Spring rhubarb is finally coming up! Yippee! It was a lovely ruby toned ending to our day.
It's a pie version of my Fast & Dirty Baked Fruit from a family of recipes known as the 'Coppolas' . Here's the pithy recipe for that:
Couple of pounds of rhubarb washed and chopped
Couple of green or other pie apples washed and chopped
Couple of cups of cranberry or other berries
Couple of tablespoons of organic cane sugar or local honey
Couple of teaspoons of cornstarch
Couple of pinches of cinnamon and ground ginger
Toss and mix in large corningware container. Throw into a 350F oven for 40-50 minutes. Let cool and enjoy.
I know you're thinking that there's not enough sugar for that much fruit. If it's not sweet enough, I just drizzle a bit of honey or some grated dark chocolate when it's still warm. I personally find most processed foods and store bought desserts way too sweet. I prefer to let the sunshine sweetness of fruit colour the dish.
This baked fruit is awesome for breakfast with a bit of yogurt and and granola. Or as a topping with some fruit sorbet or vanilla icecream or cake. In a pinch, it can be turned into a chutney with a drizzle of cider vinegar and some spices. I've also used it as a surprise filling in muffins.
Nanaimo's 100 Mile Diet Challenge