Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it? I’m often amazed by the random things my brain chooses to remember, and dismayed by the things it chooses to forget. When I saw the date today I remembered that on this date in 1971, I broke my left arm in a bicycle accident. That was my first broken bone. A few months later I broke my right arm roller skating. I broke my foot as a teenager, and the left arm again as an adult in a car accident. I’m not even counting all the broken toes over the years. Here’s hoping I have reached my lifetime quota!
Today was my grocery shopping day, and I was thankful to be able to take Jasper’s car instead of having to pay for delivery. We have a couple of big meals coming up so I really needed to get some supplies.
I finished cleaning and organizing another area of the study and it continues to look better every day. The strange thing is, it is still pretty full of stuff—even after I’ve thrown away at least half of what was in there!
I did go walking this evening and it was a little weird as the gym was almost completely deserted. I could have been belting out showtunes and it wouldn’t have bothered anyone.
About the spinach. Last year I grew New Zealand spinach in one of my barrel planters, partly out of nostalgia because we grew it in Africa. It’s not really spinach—it’s a perennial tropical green though. Anyway, it took forever to really take off and even then it seemed unenthusiastic. I never had enough to use as a side dish in a meal—just a few leaves in a salad here and there.
When cold weather came, I pulled it all up and threw it on my compost pile. At least I think I did. I can’t imagine what else I would have done with it. This is not my bathtub compost but my “big” pile in the back yard. I have since replanted that barrel with sorrel, which seems to be doing very well.
A few days ago my husband came in from outside and said it looked like we had some New Zealand spinach growing beside the driveway. This seemed very unlikely as that location is nowhere near either the compost pile or the garden, but I went out to look. Sure enough, there is a little patch of New Zealand spinach there, that somehow transported itself from who knows where and furthermore somehow survived our unusually brutal winter. I can’t explain it—but I went ahead and picked some leaves for our next salad.