Pete and I go out for walks most evenings. Two nights ago, women walking toward us near our house were holding hands and let go when they saw us. That made me very sad. The last time I saw two women let go of each other’s hands because they saw me, those women were the young daughter of a family Pete does work for and her girlfriend. I was sad then, too.
This afternoon, Pete and I watched that young woman and her girlfriend get married in the park at the end of our street. The ceremony was lovely, the weather cool and clear. The minister, an absolutely gorgeous neighbor of the young woman’s parents and a friend of my sisters’, added one exhortation to the vows I did not remember hearing before, asking the community if it supported and accepted this marriage. To a person, everyone said, “We do.” That is a fine reason to be happy.
Foraging for food interests me, especially now that I can walk again and know better than to just pick up stuff and nibble. That is terrible, do not do that – or at least call me first so I can watch. Anyway: foraging for food makes a lot of sense to me, so when a guy who used to write for Sadly, No! put up on Facebook a post-thingy about foraging for fake capers that are really pickled dandelion buds, I was hungry for details!
He said the tight buds can be picked, rinsed and quick-pickled. “Hmm,” I said. “Hmm!” The next day, I took a close look at weeds in my tiny, 100% dog-free backyard and found dandelion buds, seen here resting after a thorough rinse and cursory cleaning. Though I’ve pickled beets, onions, cucumbers and peppers, all of those things are much larger and I was working from specific recipes, so I guessed at a brine and dropped in the little flower-things.
These taste nothing like green Tic Tacs.
The funny forager said that a person could go back to the same place the next day and pick more buds, so I tried that out, too. For four days in a row, I picked the backyard clean, tinkered with my pickling liquids and dated the containers. I found that I wanted to leave the buds in brine longer than originally suggested, but for your purposes, Poor Impulsives, a real recipe will help.
My mother asked if I’d like to pick dandelion buds in her backyard. I’m wondering if her street’s run out of kids with lawnmowers.
Tata: Hey! When I got here this morning, there was a ball of yarn on my desk.
My cellmate: I found it when I was cleaning out my guest room. It’s even got one of those hook things. You want it?
Tata: Sure. It’s not your yarn, is it?
My cellmate: No, I don’t knit or whatever.
Tata: And you don’t know where it came from or why?
My cellmate: No idea.
Tata: This confirms my theory, you know.
My cellmate: You have a theory?
Tata: There’s a ball of yarn in every house. No one knows why.
My cellmate: Interesting. I expected more cheese.