The joys of gardening

My parents were keen gardeners, with a large lean-to greenhouse on the back of their house for the cultivation of seedlings. They weren't interested in an extra entertaining space, so there was only the odd chair in there for use during potting on or similar gardening activities. In summer it was not a place to linger, as the temperatures rocketed if the sun put in an appearance before early afternoon. 

 

After Dad had died Mum still grew her tomatoes, nurturing them in the greenhouse and planting them in a sunny spot once the danger of frost had passed. Her crop was impressive, but she couldn't eat them all so she shared with family and friends. Mother approaching bearing a see-through bag of ripe toms was a familiar sight thoughout September, until frost brought an end to the harvest.

Over the last couple of years, I have attempted to follow in her footsteps, but I lack her expertise. The first year I completely failed to pinch out any shoots, resulting in a large triffid-like plant which intermingled with the winter flowering jasmine and rivalled it for proportions. However, that border faced east and the fruit struggled to ripen under the vast canopy of vegetation and limited direct sunshine.  

The second year I planted my tomato plant in a pot on the patio as it is the sunniest part of our garden.  Others doubted that I would be successful, but the end of the summer resulted in an encouraging crop, with the ripening process completing on the kitchen windowsill.  

Year three and DH proudly presents me with a healthy tomato plant to nurture. Once the danger of frost has passed it was again planted in a pot on the patio, along with a few other flowering friends to encourage cross-pollination. I watched with great joy as first the flowers and then the fruit appeared. 

Then while we were away I received a text.

"The good news is that your first tomato is ripe. 

The bad news is that is yellow, so I ate it.

It was delish"

"Arghhhhh! Yellow!!!" The sender of the text knew full well that I am a middle-aged stick in the mud, who prefers her tomatoes to be of a more familiar hue.

"Never mind," responded DH, "Maybe the rest will ripen to red..."

I did not have any expectations that they would be anything other than yellow when ripe, but still we watched, just in case. 

Sadly, in turn each one went from green to yellow, failing to reach the elusive shade of red I desired."

"Looks like they will all be yellow..." I observed mournfully.

"Yes, the ones on the plot look to be the same colour," DH admitted."But the packet definitely shows red toms..." 

Presumably the word 'red' appears in the small print somewhere. 

With a colour-blind husband I won't be completely sure until things reach a fruity conclusion.

Now I have to close my eyes and eat one, to see if I can either persuade myself that it is red, or that yellow tomatoes are great too, but not until I have finished the red ones in the fridge

A Pint of Parsley, Please

A miscalculation by the stock purchasing department led to an unexpected foraging session (visit to Morrisons) after church this morning. 

Usually, I avoid food shopping, preferring to allow my husband to wander freely around the hallowed corridors of edible consumables unfettered by a reluctant shopper. 

I especially dislike food shopping on a Sunday and, in this context, two negatives a positive doth not make!

Over the years DH and I have discovered that in the interests of matrimonial harmony it is better if we do not go shopping together. My husband shops strictly by list, whilst I am rather more impulsive.

Due to his dietary intolerances, he minutely scans the ingredients of EVERY package, just to check that nothing nasty has snuck into a product while he wasn't looking. I get bored and wander off, usually sneaking off with the trolley, weaving my way down the aisles in search of interesting contraband to add a bit of variety to our haul. We discovered during the lockdown days of online shopping, that around 90% of items purchased are repeats from the previous delivery, so I like to take the opportunity to remedy this, to my husband's disproval.

By the time my husband is satisfied that his purchases are 'safe', I am usually nowhere to be seen. The poor man ends up searching the store for the trolley and his errant wife, armed with the products that have passed the tolerance test. 

One advantage of splitting up is that he misses the opportunity to vet the contents of the trolley. 

If he observes me chuck anything in the trolley, he is programmed to respond

"We don't need that!"

I prefer to let him have a surprise once the items have been scanned... 

"Cheese selection? 

Coffee cake? 

Courgettes? 

A parsley plant? - but these were not on the list..."

"The KHT enjoys her cheese but had disappeared into the toiletries aisle, so I figured a selection was a good choice."

As expected the bill was double his normal 'list' shop, which didn't go down too well.

"Well if you don't need to shop for twice as long that will balance things out..." I pointed out.

The KHT gave the bulging shopping bags a surprised look

"Golly that is a lot of shopping!" 

She is used to accompanying my husband on his more restrained excursions. 

Fortunately, we didn't have to carry the shopping home.

Later that afternoon DH goes to put the meat in the oven for dinner and is quite impressed by the relatively low cost of the joint of lamb from the promotions display.

"That is a good price!"

"Well, it came out of the promotion fridge."

"Oh, I never look in there, as it is usually beef..." 

I didn't ask how he knew it was beef if he never looked in there...

Supermarket promotion planners, you can position your special offers in the middle of an aisle, but a man with a list will never notice.

Final Chapter and Homeward Bound

 Part Six - December 28th, 2019 and beyond

After our travels of the previous couple of days we explored some of the area closer to Hamilton - beginning with coffee and cakes at a bakery in a nearby town. Our hosts often buy their goods at the bakery's regular stall in Hamilton.. 

During the time we were enjoying the sight of the Niagara Falls, the pre-Christmas snow had melted leaving just the odd remnant to remind us of the earlier snow.

We explored a collection of old buildings just outside Hamilton. Peeping through the windows they looked untouched for 100 years or so, but it could have been much less. Random items from the past had been left behind, giving insight into what life had been like. 

This covered bridge is not like anything I had seen before, but apparently it is typical of the area. It just left me asking why a bridge required a roof?

Nearby were some retail units selling vintage items which were surprisingly similar to what you would find in similar emporiums in this country. Concrete floors were disguised beneath an assortment of rugs and carpets in an attempt to keep the cold at bay, which seeped up from below. Traders huddled over heaters, hoping that customers would appear and buy up their collection of vintage tat.

For lunch we visited a nearby BBQ, where we made our selection from the mighty meaty menu.

After lunch we drove past a nearby lake. Although the temperatures were above freezing, the lake must have been much colder, as we observed folk camped out on the ice in the hope of catching fish.

The next day we bid a fond farewell to Hamilton and headed back towards New York via the scenic Catskill mountains.

We passed a surprising number of building that appeared to be abandoned, but the population of the area was so sparse it would be difficult to see how anyone could earn a living there. 

We stopped for lunch at Saugettes and took the opportunity to go for a quick wander around the streets of this small town. Most places were shut, but there were plenty of shops I would have loved to browse around. One of the few that was open was a bookshop with coffee shop attached, which had enough customers searching for reading material or a cup of coffee..

Our accommodation  this evening was an Airbnb in Queens - a first floor (English style) flat with the living room in the centre. This meant that most of the natural light in this room was from a roof light as the window looked out onto a brick wall. It felt a bit like the set from an American soap where all the action is centred on the seating area.

As this was our last day we had planned to visit Central Park, but torrential rain required us to rethink our plans. A visit to the Cathedral had been recommended, so off we set. 

Like Cathedrals this side of the pond there were lots of fascinating things to look at. I was particularly struck by the fact that the small figure in the centre of the Rose Window is the height of a man.

We then headed over to Macey's so that the KHT could have the opportunity to try out the interactive windows, the pre-Christmas crowds had made it impossible to get near the store on our previous visit. (This is not the same place we visited on Day 2, which I thought was Macey's but was actually another large New York store, the name of which escapes me...)

Too soon it was time to take the subway back to where had left the car and head for the airport for our flight eastward. 

Once on the plane we seemed to taxi and wait on the runway for about 20 minutes before eventually taking off some distance from the terminal. Through the window the KHT watched the last vestiges of light on the horizon, eventually to be replaced by the sunrise. I did think she would sleep, but she kept her eyes partly open so she could follow the progress of our flight on the screen in front of her.

It was light by the time we flew over Ireland, passing unseen above the low cloud. 

In the airport the signage for the next flight was far from clear, but with after checking with staff we managed to find our way to the right gate at the correct time for our flight back to Birmingham, glimpsing the Menai straights as we flew over Anglesea.

Baggage collected, we headed out to our waiting taxi, taking with us bags of memories from our first trip across the pond.