Have you noticed I haven’t been talking about the garden much lately? That would be due to the fact that the seedlings in our office, resting peacefully under lights, getting plenty of water and warmth, etc. etc., blah blah blah, are NOT GROWING. I’m very disappointed and am starting to get mildly frantic because WHAT WILL I PLANT IN MAY?! I have a bunch of seedlings that have one set of leaves and refuse to get bigger.
Note: This is really all my fault. I packed the planters in on each tray, and they stayed too wet for too long. Lesson learned. I’m hoping against hope I can rectify the situation, because I really don’t want to have to go out and buy plants. That would be ridiculous, people.
However, the plants that are in the backyard already, particularly the lettuce and peas, are doing superbly well. So well, in fact, that I was able to eat my first salad tonight, completely from the backyard. I never knew lettuce could be so good.
To go with my salad, I had a fancy fizzy water – club soda with homemade lavender simple syrup, using dried lavender from last fall’s plants. I say “homemade,” but simple syrup has got to be the easiest thing in the world to make. It’s not called simple for nothin’ – ba dum bump CHING. Want to know how hard I slaved over the stove last night? Here you go:
- 1 cup water
- 1.5 cups sugar
- 3-4 tablespoons dried lavender leaves, flowers, or whatever you’ve got
Combine ingredients in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat. Lower heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 5-10 minutes. Turn off heat, and let syrup cool. Pour into a pretty bottle using a fine sieve to strain out the plant bits. Throw it in the fridge. Mix with club soda (or club soda and vodka) to your heart’s delight. Garnish with a sprig of fresh lavender if you have some on hand. Enjoy.
While I am apparently awesome at killing seedlings, I am fantastic at raising chickens. Really, when we go on excursions to the outdoor run, they think I’m their mother, pecking around underneath me, eating grass and peeping contentedly. Yeah, I am probably not going to be able to eat these girls ever. We’ll have four very pampered 12-year-old chickens hobbling around the yard with their little chicken walkers and chicken hearing aids.
Here I am, playing the role of mama hen on their first trip outside. Just look at those girls, all lined up. Heart. Melting.