Redeem the time

How are you going to use your extra second this evening?

Eating from the Compost Pile

Oh, man!  Did I ever have some delicious beet greens for supper!

BBBH and I were walking the dog in the open field behind our house, as is our wont.  A neighbor several doors north of us cultivates and maintains a very nice little garden.  As she walked by this little gem, BBBH noticed that the gardener had harvested his beets, cut off the tops and discarded them on his compost pile.  She called this to my attention and I had a fistful of greens in my hands at once.

I never cease to be amazed at the profligate behaviors of some folk but this one puzzles me greatly. Why on earth would someone plant and nurture beets then cast off the best part of the plant?  Now I like beets, I mean the bulbous root things, boiled with salt and butter, pickled, or what have you.  But the greens are the very tastiest and most desirable part of the crop;.  Just sayin'.  Over and over.

In my gardening days, I lovingly planted a row of beets.  When it was time to thin them, I pulled the plants,  teeny-tiny globe and all, cooked them up.  Then when I harvested the globes I had greens again.  Following that feast, I would plant another row of beets and start the process anew.  Well, I don't do that anymore, but I'll fix the greens if you give them to me.  Or throw them on your compost pile.

Preparation

1. Wash tops thoroughly in cold water.
2. Discard excess stem (on older leaves) leaving five or six inches.
3. Boil in large pot until tender.  Ten minutes or so.
4. Drain; put blob of butter on top (there has been no substitute in this house for years).
5. Optional: sprinkle a dab of vinegar on greens
6. Eat!

There are any number of recipes for "beet greens" out there, but most of them add a bunch of seasonings and stuff.  Simple is better.

Big Bird Syndrome #T

Turdus Migratorious, Junior

Still wears his spotted vest

As he bobs along behind

Papa Robin Redbreast.

Or perhaps it is Mother.

Hard to tell one from the other.

But the mission here is clear

Parent still feeds the little dear.

Below horizon sun has gone

The frogs are now in evensong.

The fireflies flit above the grasses

Their lights flickering on their

Abdomens barely brighter than the sky.

Parent cocks its head and Peck!

Grabs a worm by its neck

Or middle, or, oh, dear!

When from Junior, “Cheep!” I hear.

Mom or Pop as the case may be

Gives the worm to Junior and he

Downs it whole.  And “Cheep!”

Not a “Thanks” I think, but “More!” this peep.

Parent snares another drops it on the ground

Tells Junior “Pick it up, there’s no one else around.”

“Cheep,” says the brat.

Mom picks up worm and gives him that.

Silly bird, the lesson shirks

Watches Mama as she works.

This offspring is as big as mother

But has it made, reminds me of another

Species, homo sapiens Americanus, 

Century twenty-one, I think

ACHOO! I sneeze.

Both birds leap into the breeze.

Gone in a wink.

© 2015 David W. Lacy

Snoopy: My Role Model

Charles Schulz and Snoopy nailed it years ago.  Hand-drawn copies for bulletin board use.

Margot and the Pink Elephant #T

It is a well-known mathematical fact that there are three and only three regular tessellations of the plane..  I offer no proof for this, but it is a fact.

I was thinking a few years ago about the ways in which tessellation of the plane might be accomplished with other sorts of figures.  I designed this little example, which would look really neat if the elephants were pink, and you might just wonder. . .

Margot's sixth birthday coincided with the arrival of the circus in town so of course her Mama took her to see the parade touting the coming performances.  As they stood along the curb watching the passing wagons and lumbering beasts, Margot was dancing with excitement, pointing, exclaiming, and oohing and aahing.

But as the elephants approached, Margot suddenly got very quiet and very still.  Very un-Margot-like behavior indeed.  The first behemoth was pink.  All over pink.  Mother could see that the attendant for whatever reason had dusted the animal all over with pink powder of some sort.  But little Margot's comprehension was addled, or as we would say in this day and age, her mind was blown.

Margot's shriek and a mighty shriek it was coming as it did from such a small body could have been heard in the next county.  At any rate, the elephants heard it and immediately the vast pink elephant responded with a clarion trumpet call that could have been heard two counties over. This was instantly followed by an elephant sextet that virtually deafened everyone in town and the applause of the lions and tigers as they roared from their cages increased the cacophony to a level never before nor ever since heard in that town. The dappled mare reared, the bareback rider rolled in the street, her tutu and tights mangled and dirty, and so were her knees and elbows.

Then the zebras broke out of their wagon. . .

Margot is up in years now, and to this day she excuses herself and leaves the room whenever someone mentions "the day the circus came to town."

© 2015 David W. Lacy

*For really cool tessellations study M. C. Escher

M. C. Escher

Donald G. Prout

Donald Prout passed from this life June 23, 2015.  Don is brother to my late wife, Ellie but more, Don was my friend.

Don did not enjoy traveling.  His home was the one place he most wanted to be, and his home was the house his parents built and in which Donald grew up.  He and his wife Jane bought the house from his parents when they retired and moved to other quarters.  Yet in spite of his love for his own environs, Don and Jane would travel to Indiana from time to time to visit us at the lake or in Tipton.

Don loved to fish and I spent many pleasant hours alongside him and his sister in that endeavor.  But more than fishing, Don loved to be engaged in productive labor.  Mr. Prout was a proud member of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers.  It was always in our best interest, and in his, to have a "project" awaiting him when he visited.  He wired our garden sheds on both properties and hooked us up for 220 at the lake house.  Yet his skills were not limited to his profession, for he was an accomplished handyman and numerous items in need of attention fell under the ministrations of his talented hands.

Don was partial to pocket tees and as they were not always easy for him to find, these items were always welcomed gifts.

Don and Jane lovingly raised two children Bill and Karen, and in later life became doting grandparents to the next generation of Prout offspring.

In our bedroom, we have a beautiful and quite complicated desk that Don built as his senior shop project when he was in high school.  As much as we cherish this piece of furniture, it is the love and friendship of this good man that we cherish most.  He will be missed.

Donald Goodwin Prout  March 4, 1936 - June 23, 2015,  RIP

The Wind

I am told that the storm hit at 2:15 Sunday morning.  Never woke me.  Fierce winds for a short period of time wreaked havoc in our community.  Pictures of our yard show that we were among the fortunate ones.  Lots of limbs down, littered area, but no damage to any structures.  Many people could not say that.  Our power was out only five hours.  For some, it was more like a day.

Good neighbors pitched in, had our yard cleaned up by shortly after noon.  We are blessed.

Koala Nation

I do hope Sharkey will forgive me for borrowing her picture, but this must be shared.  Sharkebytes was hiking in Ohio recently when she spotted this koala in a nearby tree.  Amazing as this is, my amusement was heightened by the memory of my own spotting of a koala in a palm tree in Rockport, Texas.

Photo by Joan H. Young, 2015

Posted on My Quality Day

Photo by vanilla, March 16, 2013

Posted on String Too Short to Tie