Hope ya don't mind a little update on le jardin, 'cause,
I can't even walk in there anymore.
Everything has just exploded. If there was a walkway, it's been swallowed up.
Tomatoes everywhere, squash, peppers, heck, even flowers are everywhere.
And behold my lil cantalopes!
They're all over the place!
The Daddy-o's all, "Dude, you need to cut that back."
'Cept he probably didn't say "dude". But I can't cut it back--
when ya think everything's bound to wither, you can't just start cutting back insane growth, now can ya? CAN YA? And you can't make me!
This pumpkin's twice the size of this picture now. I kidd not.
It's got its own weather system. We're gonna enter it in the fair or something.
And you better watch your back and your porch if you live anywhere near me--
claim your porch as a zucchini-free zone,
'cause I'm dropping off produce and making a run for it like it's nobody's biz-nis.
Don't want to run the risk of someone sending me back with my zucchini, see.
Yep- money can't buy happiness but a garden can bring it just a little bit.
Even decided to add to this little corner and put in some fruit trees.
(ssshhh, don't tell the hubs I didn't want the plum tree he picked up- I wanted peach.)
And if you live in these parts, then you know we fought for every inch of ground to plant those babies. Seriously back-breaking work.
And if you've had zucchini bread, cake, and every other form you can think of besides that it's taken over your fridge and in frozen shredded form in the freezer?
Might I suggest?
Yes it's not just a movie about nasty rodents.
Normandy, summer of 1992. Or some year around there. I was a tweenager, spending a month in France. And we had ratatouille served just about every day:
Oh.ma.gosh. It's all about the baked parmesian, baby. I serve it with a bit of couscous, 'cause hey, that's what they did. Try it. Savor it. Love it. Heck, come take some of my ingredients. Do me a favor.