Last year I decided I wanted a little herb garden. I love cooking and I always envy Giada de Laurentiis when she reaches out and grabs a handful of fresh basil for her sauce or whatnot. Well, being the *dedicated* person that I am, I promptly forgot all about watering the herbs and they died a slow and agonizing death in the harsh California summer.
My bad. But, I knew my limits then. My children ate well balanced meal, the occasional bunch of chicken nuggets offset by healthy veggie-mix made by my mom. She would mash up a bunch of cooked veggies, add butter, and both my sons practically lived on that for the first two years of their lives. I honestly think they have been given such a great nutritional start by my mom that I will be forever grateful to her for that.
Then I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. Damn. I could feel the long forgotten legacy of my field-working ancestors, those people who tamed the arid soils of my homeland and the unforgiving lands in the South American sierra to thrive and feed their people, surging to the surface, demanding I go right out and plant something, for god's sakes.
Unfortunately, it was the middle of winter, and even though I am in California, I had to wait a few months to make my new dream come true.
Where to hang art next to a door?
13 hours ago