|Broccoli getting a head start.|
Sheesh, what has happened to me and all those youthful dreams? I have a job, of course, but it is not a "career" by a long shot. It's a dead-end gig that helps shape my days, provides medical insurance and funds my fibers addiction and my quest for sustainable living. I love to write having been a journalist in my earlier manifestation. But, I cringe to admit, I was definitely the obedient white girl from the suburbs back then. No envelope pushing for me.
I blog my suburban middle-aged white gal angst, knowing full well I am just a drop in the bucket of an over-committed demographic doing the right thing expected of us. Pictured above is my latest attempt to break that mold. Okay, not break it, let's say just a tiny chip. No not even that. Let's say, drop it on the floor so, though it doesn't break, it is weakened just a little bit so maybe the next time it will chip.
My experiment in turning my tidy suburban plot into a suburban farm--baby broccoli I started a few weeks ago. I have tucked them into the cold frame I put up against the back of my house which has the most awesome southern exposure. Will enough heat escape from my house to warm them at night and allow them to survive and eventually flourish? They are suppose to produce deep purple florets that I hope to sneak into my front yard amongst the daffodils. I have plenty of seed for fall planting also--a sort of edible aster.
We shall see and I will pick up the dropped mold and move forward.