Sunday, September 29, 2013
I just discovered Country Harvest whole wheat plus vegetables bread (carrot, celery and leek). It's 80 calories a slice and tastes great for a savoury sandwich. One slice is one serving of vegetables; very pretty with the bright orange and green flecks, high fibre too. Don't think I'd like it toasted with jam, however!
And: local Honeycrisp apples are in season. Yikes, $4.99 a pound!! I won't be buying these often, but what a delicious juicy crisp apple when freshly picked.
My home made turkey broth is repurposed into a turkey veggie wholegrain noodle soup with an Asian inflection . . . fresh ginger and Chinese five spice.
Big disappointment: for some reason my secret cache of gentians has not survived: there was not a single bloom. The small pond adjacent has been drained, and I can only assume that the microclimate needed for these rare blossoms is no longer available. Saw one or two plants (there used to be hundreds) which I could identify as gentians by the foliage, but none of them was looking robust. Oh dear. I was probably in my fifties before I first saw a gentian, identified by a song I'd learned as a little girl and sung as a round in Brownies. Just by the description from the song lyrics, I instantly knew what they had to be:
The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
By all these lovely tokens
September days are here
With summer's best of weather
And autumn's best of cheer.
Gentians (my wildflower app tells me) are biennials (meaning that they bloom only in their second year). Which generally means, for self-seeding biennials, that there are always "first season" plants not blooming and second season plants blooming and seeding for the next year's first season crop: like a relay race I suppose. I'm trying to imagine the gentians will resurge but frankly it's not looking likely: so few 1st season plants, no evidence of any surviving second season plants.
Oh dear oh dear. Consoled myself with the three glorious Heavenly Blue morning glories outside my back door! Nothing is the colour of a gentian -- but the morning glories are indeed heavenly.