Last fall in a fit of preparedness I planted purple sprouting broccoli which, sometime mid winter, I decided were actually collard greens and almost harvested several times. Luckily my sheer laziness and disinclination to tromp through mud gave them time to put out these darling little purple trees. They are almost too pretty to eat, but I will force myself. The whole debacle has made me question whether I’ve ever even planted collards. It’s quite possible I’ve been merrily stewing broccoli leaves with ham hocks and later wondering why the broccoli never comes up.
Those of you with close reading skills may have noticed that this blog went dark some time ago. Lately though, I’ve been missing a dedicated place to complain about the weather (fuck you buckets of freezing rain!) and hatch schemes like the indigo garden where violet hues reign supreme. If I can just get eggplants, Cherokee purple tomatoes, Thai basil, purple haze carrots, johnny jump-ups, huckleberries, blueberries, purple pole beans, and clairvoyant children all going before I eat the purple broccoli, my dream will be realized. Also I have fairly regular encounters with absurdity which I like to jot down because it makes scenarios like the man feeding crows french fries who saw me watching him and screeched “NOT FOR YOU” even though I don’t eat old french fries out of garbage bags, and then the crows doing appreciative dances in the air around his head and also yelling at me, seem like a good story versus “I am loathed by crows and the homeless.” So I’ve dusted off the ole blog just in time for planting season and apparently daylight savings time.
