Ice Storm

I woke up at 3:52 a.m. because my yorkie, Arthur, was barking mad. Noises outside were alarming him and he wanted me to know! Ice machine rumbles outside my bedroom window confused me. What was happening? Bits of icicles from the maple were falling onto the metal roof. The picture to the left is of that sight at 4:00 a.m. when I realized the freezing rain was turning everything into ice-encased wonderland. My husband, considering he never was a boyscout, was bustling about making sure we had flashlights, operational generator, hot-tap shower, and firewood. He took a shower and encouraged me to hurry and take one in case the power went out. The news advised that this was the beginning of the storm and we had 24-30 more hours of this.

David called the office staff and told them not to come in. He moved the field employee's vehicles from under the trees to a safer location by the cornfield. Unfortunately, two employees didn't leave their keys with us and their cars are under some maples that may be a problem later.

I was groggy and not as composed as he. The only thing I could think of was to cook. So, I fried some bacon, made biscuits, and cooked up an egg. We ate and joked about only having half a loaf of bread, a little milk, and no eggs.

David left for work. Now, I have to say, he didn't have to go to work, this was an excuse to see the scenery. He called from the office, and gave me a full report. As he was talking to me, he was fishing for his keys. Guess what? He left them at home. Ha. He came back home, ate a couple more slices of bacon and left again with his office keys.

I couldn't stand it. I grabbed my camera and headed out. First I went to the backyard. The old black walnut that had gotten struck by lightning last spring was completely down. I took a few pictures through the fencing. I looked at the garden. I always leave herbs and some of the taller bushier plants up during the winter for the birds to rest in. The angular branches encased in ice were so beautiful. The wild arugula looked like lace. The peppers looked trapped like the fruit in the eau vie bottles. The chive blossoms looked like a crystal bouquet. Everything was so surreal. And then I started hearing the popping and cracking. I looked across the street, and realized the tops were snapping out of the black locusts. A brittle tree, this ice would be their demise.

I took my chances, and walked under the sugar maples in the side yard to the front. To my dismay, the maple's branches were snapping. It was odd, a snap across the street and immediately an acknowledging snap in the front yard. And, this is only the beginning?

The hundred year old trees were definitely going to feel the effects. I looked by the old coach house. I felt a pain in my heart as I realized the ancient dogwood had split in half.

Once again in the warm house, I wondered how long this warmth would last. The lights were flickering. David called. The office was completely dark. The substation was down in E'town. I called Nolin and was informed many feeder lines to many substations were down. No idea how long this would be the case. I advised David. He called me back a little later. His buddy told him probably 3 days and that was only if it didn't get worse. Again, this was only the beginning of the storm according to Jim Cantore, Weather Channel correspondent located in Paducah, KY. Hmmm...

Still, at 10:53 a.m., we have electricity. I had planned on doing some recipe testing today. I'm probably pushing my luck. How bad would I feel with a batch of cookies in a lifeless oven? Now I'm looking over at my Christmas present I haven't had the chance to play with, a chocolate tempering machine. Should I? Again, pushing my luck...

I am amazed with all the internet troubles over the last two weeks that I am able to do this. Although, when I just autosaved, a message came up that it was unable to connect to blogger. Maybe, I should cut this short. I am typing very quickly, and probably will not proofread. Again, pushing my luck.

When it's cold there are comfort foods that at the mere mention of their names, one's soul warms and if lucky, fingertips too. Cornbread, chili, pudding, cocoa, soup, these are the warming foods that comfort me. Last night, I baked up some cornbread to serve alongside beef stew. Being a thrifty soul, I had save a few choice pieces of steak, brisket, and a roast. David would die if he knew I had frozen those bits and created the delicous stew he slurped down several bowls of. He is not a leftover eater. He is now. Hee. Anyway, the cornbread was gussied up with coconut milk. It was very subtle. David never even knew. He just commented on the moistness. I think next time, I will toast some unsweetened coconut and toss it in the batter. It was really tasty.

Coconut Cornbread

Serves: 6-8

Ingredients:

1-1/2 cups self-rising yellow corn meal mix

1 cup all purpose flour

1/4 cup sugar

2 eggs

1 cup coconut milk (I dumped the remainder in the stew, he never even knew it)

1/4 cup vegetable oil

Preparation:

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Grease a 10" iron skillet by spraying with a non-stick spray.

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Mix well. Pour batter into greased skillet.

Pop in oven for 15 minutes or until lightly golden on top and firm in the center.

Cool for 5 minutes before cutting.

Mouse + Snow = No Internet

Why hasn't there been a blog in almost two weeks?
For the last two weeks we have had the most dreadful sub-zero cold snap in recent history. When just normal winter cold happens, the mice (remember, this is the country) for whatever mousy reason, go into the phone company's breaker boxes, and power stations and build little nests around the wires and when they are tucked away in their newly-built creations, they start chewing on the wires. This results in instant electrocution, unlucky mouse, and crackly, popcorn noises on the phone which means limited or no internet because the signal can't get through properly, unlucky me. So, in the mornings the internet is down, and in the afternoons, there is spotty service which doesn't help me at all since I have to blog before daylight.
My husband gets so angry every time this happens that I just didn't tell him for about a week. Early last week, he wanted an email sent to him from home to the office, and I finally had to break down and tell him that 'it was that time of year again'.
This has been going on for now 5 years that we have lived here. Oddly, I have become used to it. Eventually, the Windstream guys come around and fix the problem. Then, in the spring, the other scenario happens, torrential spring rains with driving winds push water into the breaker boxes and the wires get wet and it happens all over again. Crackly lines translate into sporadic internet service. And think, we ran a business out of this home office for 4 years! I have to smile when I think of the corporate office of one of the largest (and in my opinion the best) home improvement stores that were always so understanding, probably because their home office is in the country too. Even when we had turkeys last spring who for whatever reason decided that the back door and driveway were so much more exciting than their coop, and would gobble at the sound of a tractor driving by. So when David would step outside to talk and get some air, and the three turkeys at the sound of his voice would break into unison gobbles, even then, the corporate guys were cool about it.
It's just country living, and one can get spittin' mad, or just deal with it knowing that in good time, it all will work out. I opt to deal with it. Believe me the first year and a half, I did get mad and probably came across to Windstream and their guys like the crazy lady on the hill, but I could not would not believe that in the 21st century, mice still wreaked havoc on telephones which, in turn, translates into internet problems. It is true, and there is nothing one can do about it. Mice will always be in the country.
It was really maddening last week because Friday a week ago, I found the best meatball recipe that I wanted to share. Last Monday I had some exciting news which I have since forgotten, Wednesday I made ricotta gnocchi that I wanted to pass on to you. And then, this past Friday was National Pie Day. Kentucky has some wonderful pies none more famous than the Derby Pie. I am going to hold on to my Derby Pie recipe until we get closer to Derby. Did you know, I am "breaking the law" by calling it my Derby Pie recipe? Yep, a couple from Louisville in the late '60s trademarked the name, Derby Pie. Get real, a nut and chip pie laced with bourbon by any other name is still Derby Pie. I'll take my chances, and call it what it is.
Anyway, in my recipe research for another one of my cooking contest that I'm gearing up for, I rediscovered a recipe for Strawberry Pretzel Salad. The strangest sounding concoction. Many years ago, I was asked to make an anniversary dinner. The client gave me her Mom's recipes which included this salad recipe. I had never heard of it, and frankly, thought it sounded disgusting. I made a little bowl for myself, in the spirit of research of course. It was delicious. Odd, but tasty. Sweet, tart, salty, creamy, crunchy all in a congealed salad creation. I cannot resist a good congealed salad. So very American, and many times, as in this case, so southern. When you make it, you will dream of warmer weather and that other southern speciality to complement it, a cool sweet tea.

Strawberry Pretzel Salad
Serves: 8-10
Ingredients:
2 cups crushed pretzels
3/4 cup melted butter
3 TB sugar, plus 3/4 cup sugar
1 8 oz pkg cream cheese
1 8 oz container whipped topping
2 3 oz pkgs strawberry gelatin dessert mix
2 cups boiling water
2 10 oz pkgs frozen strawberries
1 8 oz can crushed pineapple
Whipped topping or whipped cream, to garnish.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
For the crust, mix the pretzels, butter, and 3 TB sugar. Press this mixture into a 9 x 13 x 2 glass baking dish, and bake for 7 minutes. Set aside to cool.
In a mixing bowl, beat together the cream cheese and 3/4 cup of sugar. Fold in the whipped topping, and spread over the cooled crust. Refrigerate until well chilled.
In a small bowl, dissolve the gelatin in the boiling water, and allow to cool slightly. Add the strawberries, and pineapple, and pour over the crema cheese mixture. Refrigerate until serving time.
To serve, cut slices and serve with a dollop of whipped topping.

Excuses, Excuses...

Sorry I didn't stop by and chat on Friday, but the computer had the early morning doldrums and I didn't conquer until after 8:00am (If you look, you'll see I typically blog by 7:00am). I had a Dr. appt. in Louisville, and the blogging fell by the wayside. I wanted to mourn the WSJ article regarding Waterford-Wedgwood and their buyer problems. They are up for sale and no one is looking to buy. Yeow. All of our dishes and crystal are by this iconic company. David flipped out when I told him about the situation. All the plates, bowls, and crystal that were broken flashed before his eyes. "Order everything you need tomorrow before it's too late," he commanded. Alrighty then. I took inventory and order I did, plus more. I mean, the company could go under and what would we do? I took advantage, yes, I did. The boxes have arrived over the past 2 days. All is well in Wedgwood land, and the village of Waterford too. Yes, I ordered a bit of crystal to tide us over. Then yesterday happened, and I overslept. I couldn't blog because I was rushing to get to the office to do invoicing. The reason I'm blogging after 7 am today, is because I made several invoicing errors and got called to the office early to figure out the problems. I was bound and determined to blog today, so you're getting it now. Plus, does it really matter? No one reads this blog anyway.
The other thing I read last week on the Cooking Contests Central site was the announcement of my favorite contests: Betty Crocker, Martha White, and URS, season 3. I have great ideas for all, but I can't blog about them or post recipes yet. If I do, the recipes will be considered "published" and will be disqualified. However, I will give you a delicious cookie recipe from last year called Sticky Figgy Pudding Bars. Eat the bars warm while they are gooey. If you refrigerate them, don't worry, just pop in the microwave until warm. And, do as we did, take a large spoon and just scoop out big helpings and top with vanilla ice cream. Ridiculously delicious!
Sticky Figgy Pudding Bars
Serves: 8-10
Ingredients:
1 17.5 oz pkg Betty Crocker "Sugar Cookie" cookie mix
1 stick (1/2 cup) softened butter
2 large eggs
2/3 cup hot water
1 TB instant coffee granules
1 cup dried mission figs, stems removed, chopped
1/2 cup chopped dried dates
1/2 cup chopped dried plums
OR, nix the dates and plums and add a cup more chopped figs
Sticky Sauce, recipe follows.
Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Pour hot water into a small bowl and add coffee granules; stir until dissolved. Add the figs, dates, and plums, stir. Let stand for 5 minutes.
Place butter in a medium bowl and beat with a hand-held mixer until fluffy. Scrape down sides of bowl. Add eggs and beat well (mixture will look curdled).
On low speed, mix in Betty Crocker sugar cookie mix. Add fruit and any remaining liquid. Stir until combined.
Pour mixture into an ungreased 9 x 13 x 2 glass baking dish. Using a spatula, spread evenly in pan. Place in oven and bake for 40 minutes, or until top is puffed and a rich golden brown. While cookie bakes, prepare the sticky sauce. Remove dish from oven and using a skewer, poke holes evenly all over the top of the hot cookie. Brush the hot sticky sauce over the top until it seems the cookie no longer absorbs the sauce. Let cookie set for about 10 minutes before scooping out with a large spoon into an ice cream-lined dessert dish (scoop a couple balls of softened ice cream into a dessert dish. Depress ice cream all around the walls of the dish. Scoop warm cookie into the middle) Yummy.
Sticky Sauce:
6 TB (1/3 cup) softened butter
1 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
Melt butter and sugar in a heavy small saucepan. Stir until sugar is dissolved and butter is bubbling. Stir in heavy cream and cinnamon. Raise heat to medium and bring to a boil. Stir well. Turn heat back to low and brush over hot cookie until cookie cannot absorb any additional sauce (I actually pour all the sauce over the top and let the cookie deal with it!).

A Toad is a Toad unless it's a Toad-in-a-Hole

Since I've been dreaming about my new gardens, orchard, and seeds in general, it has made me miss someone that last year I went out of my way to avoid. I have to give background in order for this to mean anything to you.
Last Christmas a man came to the door selling firewood. We bought some and a couple weeks later he showed up again. He was very country and talkative which drew us right in. His stories were so crazy that after he left we laughed about them for days. David drove by his house about a week before Christmas and was stunned at the poverty. His trailer was from the 60s if not earlier. The cars were very rickety. Live poultry was everywhere. But yet, what really stood out was the neatness of it all. Everything had a place. The lawn was cut, flowers were planted, the cars were clean. David's heart went out to him.
David wanted to do something for him, but knew that if Glen found out the monetary gift was from him, he would not accept it. So he concocted a plan. He went down to the florist and had her deliver a gift and an envelope with strict instructions to not divulge our name no matter how hard Glen pressed her. She followed through perfectly.
A couple days later Glen came over and talked with David. He told him what happened to him. David played dumb. We never heard what he did with the money.
Long story short, after Christmas Glen asked if we had any work for him because his previous employer had gone out of business (tree cutting). David had some odd jobs around the barn and house. Glen performed all tasks very well. David being the softie, wanted to give him more to do so he put him on the road with the guys to help out. Disaster.
Glen had no social skills: spoke about inappropriate subjects, drove the guys crazy with his turkey and horse tales, and smelled to the high heavens because of his aversion to deodorant. One of the guys had all he could bear and went to Wal-Mart, bought a deodorant on his own dime, and showed Glen how to use it. Bottom line with this, he could not go out with the guys anymore.
David kept him busy around the barn. And, really, he was more comfortable with this work. mY problem with him and I really went out of my way to avoid him besides the stench that came off of him because of his non-deodorant ways, he would ask me a gardening question and basically talk nonstop. He was so good at this, that it was difficult to break away because he was fully aware of what he was doing. He avoided eye contact and therefore, did not receive the "signals" ie yawning, stepping away, etc... all the things we do to break away from a talker. When we went to the new office, along came Glen. He kept the back areas neat as a pin, and when that was in order, he went back to the house and kept the gardens tidy. Everything seemed to be working just fine. He really had evolved into a handy man.
We bought new property in October. Glen went along with David to see what needed to be cleaned up around the old house and barn. That is when the trouble started.
The neighbor came over and chatted with David, Glen became jealous. Glen cursed the neighbor, and lied to him about our intentions for the property. David talked with him explaining it was not his place to make up things in order to chase off the neighbor. It really became uncomfortable.
The fall storms caused a tree to fall across our driveway. Glen cleaned everything up. I wondered where the large trunk had gone. I looked in the field behind the house and saw what I thought was it. It looked kind of small, but I figured it was because of the distance. David, on the other hand, drove down to it and checked it out. I remember him saying that he thought that tree was bigger. Apparently it bugged him for a while because right after Thanksgiving, he confronted Glen about the tree trunk. That is when David's suspicions were validated. Glen was lying to him.
This fueled David who now full throttle started piecing everything together. He drove to the saw mill and asked the owner if a log had shown up. Yes, Glen had brought a large maple log down and had asked him to hold on to it. Word must have gotten back to Glen who did not show up for work for an entire week. The next week, he rolled in as if all was fine in the world. David asked him to step in his office where he asked him again about the log. Glen continued to play dumb. Several other lies had come to light and David asked him about those. Again, Glen played dumb. David was angry at this point. He told Glen to stop insulting him with lies; furthermore, he was not going to give him any work for a couple of weeks. A couple of weeks to think about his lies and how they impact others would be a good thing. He told him to come back after two weeks and 'fess up. If he could own up to his lies, then he could work again. Glen never came back.
David and I refer to the whole year of Glen as a social experiment that went wrong. But did it? A toad is a toad just as much as a rose by any other name is still a rose.
And still, we miss the toad, especially when we see handyman projects looming in the near future.
So the only good toad is a Toad-in-a-Hole. Growing up, I invented this breakfast dish for my brother and sister. My sister named it Sunshine Eggs because the egg reminded her of the sun. Later, I discovered, to my disappointment, that the English invented it long ago and named it Toad-in-a-Hole because the egg looked like a toad's bottom as it jumps in a hole, in this case, a toast hole. To this day, we love Sunshine Eggs or whatever you want to call it. I'm sure when Nephew Ben gets old enough, he too will eat Sunshine Eggs.

Sunshine Eggs aka Toad-in-a-Hole
Serves: 1

softened butter
1 slice of bread
1 egg

Heat a medium skillet over medium high heat. Spread softened butter over both sides of the bread slice. Place slice in skillet. With a 2" biscuit cutter, cut a hole from the middle of the bread.
Lay the bread circle to the side of the bread and let it toast in the skillet. Break the egg into the hole. Cook on one side for 3 minutes. Flip and cook until egg yolk is cooked through to your liking. Slide onto a plate and put the toasted bread circle slightly askew on the egg. You have one sunshine egg.

Country Ham Thank-you

After church on Sunday, the preacher's wife, a dear friend, like a mother actually, asked me to walk over to her house. She asked her granddaughter to open the garage and get the same thing for me that another lady had received. Sounded a little cryptic, but Sam knew what she meant. She returned a few minutes later, with a country ham. "Here's a little something to thank you for the good time New Years Eve". She handed me a boneless trimmed uncooked country ham. Penn's brand, yum. She explained how to cook it, actually bake it. Simply put the whole ham in a pan, add a little orange juice and bake at 350 until the internal temperature is 160 degrees. Slice and fry up in a skillet. How easy. She went on to explain that all the work had been done on this ham, about a 6 pounder, if I had to guess. Work would have been cutting off the skin, trimming back the excess fat layer, and working around the bone. I had read that there are other steps like soaking, and scrubbing the outer skin which sounded tiresome. All was eliminated with this trimmed boneless country ham. My previous lunch idea vanished as I held the ham. I thanked her and walked to my car dreaming of buttermilk biscuits, applesauce which I had made the day before, and slices of country ham.
When I got home I promptly got out my tattered Martha White cookbook and turned to my favorite buttermilk biscuit recipe while contemplating the country ham. I didn't really want to cook the whole thing. My husband suggested slicing it on my electric slicer and portioning the slices then vacuum sealing the portions and freezing. Sounded like a plan. A plan I would tackle after I had my biscuits and country ham for lunch.
I sliced off 6 1/4" thick slices; my husband hovering over my left shoulder like a hungry hound.
A skillet went on the stove and some apple cider was poured in. I turned the stove to medium heat and added the slices. I gently cooked them (fancy cooks would call it braising) with the lid on for about 20 minutes. I should tell you right here I've never cooked an uncooked country ham before so I was following instinct on this one. The apple cider was just something I thought would be tasty after hearing Sharon's recipe with orange juice. After the slices had turned the pale pink of cooked country ham, I removed them to a plate, turned the heat to medium high and reduced the cider to a syrupy consistency. Then, I turned each slice in the salty sweet glaze and topped the hot biscuits with a couple slices. David topped his ham with cheese. I topped mine with applesauce. A heavenly lunch indeed.
We both decided that a country ham thank-you was mighty fine.
I think the above description should get you through the ham recipe with no problems.
The applesauce was made from Arkansas Black apples which I had purchased from a nearby orchard. Funny, when I bit into an apple the first of November, it nearly took out a tooth. The apples were so hard I couldn't even push one onto my apple peeler. I let the two pecks-worth sit in the bottom of my double door refrigerator for a couple months and something wonderful happened, they softened up. The applesauce from those Arkansas Blacks is almost mousse-like, fabulous to eat. I might also add, Arkansas Blacks are beautiful to behold. The skin is burgundy to blackish red. In my dream orchard that I wrote about yesterday, Arkansas Black apples would have a place of prominence in my large orchard.
For the applesauce I simply peeled one peck of apples, then quartered them. I put the unseeded quarters into a 7 quart pot, added about 2 cups of water, turned them to medium heat, covered with a lid and let them simmer away for about 30 minutes. Surprisingly, that is all the time they needed to cook down. I then ran them through my food mill using the coarse plate which held back all the seeds. I poured the sauce back into the pot. Brown sugar, about 2 cups, 2 tsp of ground cinnamon, and 2 tsp of ground coriander was also added. I reheated the applesauce to incorporate the sugar and spices, and then put in freezer-safe containers and tucked them in among the other goodies such as peaches and cherries.
The biscuit recipe is from the Martha White Southern Sampler cookbook. I used butter-flavored shortening for the first time and the biscuits were golden brown and buttery tasting. In the south we don't turn up our noses to shortening. It's indispensible for many classics of southern cuisine. Paula has her butter, I now have my butter-flavored shortening. I used a 3" cookie cutter to cut out the biscuits; the biscuits were sandwich-size and they were more conducive to holding the long slices of cider-glazed country ham.

Buttermilk Sandwich Biscuits
Makes: 8 sandwich biscuits with a few little baby biscuits from the scraps
Ingredients:
3/4 cup butter-flavored shortening
4 cups sifted self-rising flour (I use White Lily brand)
1-2/3 cups buttermilk
melted butter
Preparation:
Preheat oven to 475 degrees. Grease a large baking sheet with low sides (I use a silpat and then I don't have to grease) Blend the shortening into the flour using two dinner knives or a pastry blender, leaving large pea-sized pieces of shortening. Add buttermilk and stir with a serving fork only until the dough leaves the sides of the bowl.
Turn out dough onto a lightly floured board. Lightly flour the top of the dough and pat out (use your fingertips) into a square; fold in half; pat out again to a 1/2" thickness. A light hand makes a light biscuit.
Cut into 3" rounds with a floured cutter. Use a metal spatula to help transfer the biscuits to the prepared sheet.
Bake for 15-18 minutes or until golden brown. Brush the tops with melted butter.

Dreaming about Seeds, Dirt, and Gardens

The Christmas tree is nestled in its' box until next year. The hundreds of glass-blown birds that decorated the tree are sleeping in their paper-lined boxes until they come out next December. All stocking are carefully folded and put away. So what's a gal to do in January in the heart of Kentucky?
Easy! Pull out the seed catalogs that she has carefully been stacking since their arrival mid-December. Even though I snuck a peek during the holidays in a couple of my favorites, the tradition is to stack them up and not look until January. So, now it's time to dream about seeds, dirt, and gardens.
We finalized house plans around Thanksgiving. We finished interviewing builders days before Christmas. Last week, we made our final decision on the builder of choice. He is a great person (stay tuned to whether that assessment changes as the months go by!) with a creative mind. My test of the final two builder choices was this: I made a change to the second floor and didn't tell them until last weeks meeting. Builder A (who wasn't picked) stared at me and said, "whatever you want". I asked how the change would affect cost, roofline, room dimensions, and he could not off the cuff give me an answer. I pressed him with "what if I have other design changes/ideas during this process?" To which he replied, "Hey, if you got the money, I'll do whatever you want." I went on, "Even if it doesn't make design sense?" At that point, he realized that he had said too much. I thought that he said exactly what was on his mind and I didn't like it.
Builder B answered all my questions. I shot the design sense question at him. He said, he would no matter what point out anything that seemed flawed, or unsensible. Exactly, what I wanted to hear, someone who would evaluate my creative brainstorms. He got the job. Oh, the change that I wanted? A sleeping porch off the the upstairs guest bedroom, and it is going to be worked in with minimal cost. Yay.
So, house stuff is on my mind. But, honestly, I have over a hundred acres of dirt at my disposal, and I am dreaming BIG. I had thought of putting in tobacco, about an acre, because the property was formerly a tobacco farm. I researched tobacco, the work involved, the cost as well, and really I just don't want to get into that. You decide: One acre of tobacco equals 7,400 hundred plants with fertilizer needs, pesticide control, workers (no way that one person could maintain an acre by herself), several big steps during the season of topping, cutting, curing, and grading. Steps that generations of tobacco growers have passed down through their families. I am not so arrogant to think that I could figure this out in a season. So, an acre produces about 2,000 pounds of tobacco at 1.75 per pound which is $3,500 dollars. Now, take away fertilizer costs, pest control, worker payments and what do you get? Not much for an acre of hard work. I'm sure that it works out if you plant several acres, but for me, it's just not worth it. I think I will plant a few plants as an homage to the farm's former crop. So then on to sorghum.
I am still thinking of planting an acre of sorghum. I have no $$ in mind for this at all. I have heard through the years that it is labor intensive, and costly, but on the other hand, the birds love the seed heads, the deer would love the stalks, and I think it would look pretty. It has a lot more to offer than tobacco. My husband on the other hand, thinks it is a bad idea. I'll consider it more before making a final decision.
Last year my big success, and it was funny how many people loved looking at the tidy rows of onions and leeks, were allium crops. This weekend Anthony Bourdain was in Spain at an onion farm, my husband dreamed of us planting acres and acres of onions and having an onion festival or party like Anthony's friends in Spain. See how contagious this seed dreaming can be?
Then, yesterday I opened a catalog on orchard trees. I think a small apple orchard would be nice. Of course, dreaming allows one to plant many orchards, and a vineyard, and let's not forget the raspberry, currant, and strawberry patches. Oh, some native plantings of pawpaw, and persimmon would be nice too. Oh, how I love to dream about seeds, dirt and gardens...