Vegetable Porn and Stripper Pits

Ah, wintertime. Now is just the beginning. It’s still a long time until late February when my body craves a green vegetable and a few bright specks of blooming crocus in my yard make my whole week.

I’m ready, though. I’ve gotten my first catalog and a couple new books to look through on a cold evening. With big, brilliant, glossy closeups of perfect tomatoes and peas and beans and carrots and the like, it is, as some people I know have called it, vegetable porn.

The catalog definitely makes even my least favorite vegetables look sexy. I want to order a little of everything in it. So I read my new books for inspiration–one by an English chef with a tiny backyard plot and another with gardening advice for Southern Indiana–and gazed out my back door and dreamed about how to cram a few more things into my garden space.

Meanwhile, this past weekend John and I participated in the long-running Patchwork tradition of gathering Christmas trees on strip mine land just north of Evansville. We find pines and junipers that have lots of character (Charlie Brown-style), though they may not be perfectly groomed.

It’s always a fun outing with time rambling across re-forested slag heaps and plains. Having chosen a tree this way for several years now, John and I know well that a tree that looks small outdoors can be absolutely HUGE inside our house. And still, every year after choosing a conservatively-sized tree we get it into our house with 12 foot ceilings and the tree scrapes the ceiling.

Take this year, for example. We drove by a tree near the road and thought, hey, there’s a nice little tree.

Even when John stood next to it, it didn’t seem too big. (OK, so in reviewing this photo I can see that it was a lot taller than he is).

And here we are once again. Glad to have 12 food ceilings.

This year while gathering trees we got a little extra bonus: some random guy with a long white beard, waders, and a gun who was in a camouflaged pickup and told us all about his experiences trapping critters in the area. He had a dead muskrat and beaver in the back of the truck. We learned quite a bit and got to smell the jar of beaver glands he’d collected. They sell for $60 a pound, apparently.

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3 thoughts on “Vegetable Porn and Stripper Pits

  1. Pingback: In the Bleak Midwinter | Squirrels and Tomatoes

  2. Pingback: A Lightly Poached Christmas Tree and Hoar Frost | Squirrels and Tomatoes

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