Sideways Ripples Shawl: Finished! (Going Bread-Baking Crazy for The Farmers Market)

When you knit something for yourself, you hope it's "wearable. . . in public." I'll go out on a limb here and state for the record, "I've worn every single thing I've ever knitted for myself. Somewhere." As for knitted gifts--I don't do that as much anymore. Unless it takes less than a week--okay, maybe two--I've vowed to discontinue the practice of gift-knitting. It's best this way. But this does not include the man sweater I have been knitting for three years for DH. (However, I have vowed to never knit a man sweater again.)  

I knit this shawl for myself because I loved the symmetry. Such a clever pattern: 

Sideways Ripples Shawl by Kyoko Nakayoshi, I Raveled mine here. 

Little Rustic Strawberry Tarts (Container Growing Strawberry Know-How)

I have three pints of strawberries in the fridge. I had five! It became necessary to um, get baking. During strawberry season, there is no such thing as too many strawberries around here. Every morning on my oatmeal plus I nibble on them throughout the day (well, when I don't feel the need for chocolate). I am convinced they hold some secret cure. Of what, I am not sure. 

This recipe involves basically very little in the way of cooking. Personally, the kitchen is not where I want to be when there is so much to be done outside. Today the temps are in the nineties so I lasted outside until about noon, then had to come in to cool off. 

I grow my own strawberries, but not in the way you might imagine. There are no fields. Mine are grown in a one container that is literally maintenance free. I do nothing to this plant. I don't feed, mulch or co-plant. It is in full sun throughout the summer. In the fall, I cover it with leaves which apparently provides it with enough protection to keep it in its dormant stage without it being killed by the cold. And we had a truly cold winter, so imagine my surprise when my strawberries showed up! The homegrown strawberry is not your grocery store strawberry. IT is much better! Smaller, yes, but they are simply divine. 

Beautiful Lives of Silent Sleepers (. . . And Reading Maya Angelou's, "Mom & Me & Mom")

This happens every Mother's Day weekend. I count. Sixteen years. I will always count. For some reason this year feels as if it were just yesterday. I don't know why. It could have something to do with the fact that I am this much closer to her age when she left.