Turns out the electricity came back sometime after midnight and before 1AM. I slept through the signal, but the Guru heard the radio playing dance music. We forgot it was on when the power…went.
So, in the interests of recognized continuity, these are the chives I remember from my deep childhood, probably escaped from great-grandmother’s garden maybe shortly before WWII. Maybe. Without a doubt, they have been here a while. Baked potatoes anyone?
Today’s big excitement was picking the 2016 crop of rhubarb and making a simple compote with a bit of water and more sugar than I expected. No photos of the deep crimson compote…none of that greenish, grayish stuff, just a deep red sauce extracted from these jewel-tones…. The fine genes of our rhubarb are from careful husbandry a decade ago (and more) by the Botanist. [Tomorrow’s chore is to weed the (surviving) five rhubarb crowns and give them the gazinta to get through another summer/winter.]
Okay, an artsy shot. The gate has sentinel white lupines. And outside, to the left where you cannot see, is a robust group of lilacs I do not remember from times past. Clearly, my memory is from years ago, and not from, well, last year.