got peaches?

The peach crop in northern Texas was so pitiful last year that peaches had to be IMPORTED into Weatherford for the annual Parker County Peach Festival. But not so this year! Because of our record-breaking rainfall, the peach crop is so plentiful that growers are reporting limb-breaking harvests! Thank goodness--I was down to one last batch of frozen peaches. I've bought one bushel and want to get another this week. Put up so far (put up???--do I sound like my grandmother, or what?): four pints of preserves, three quarts of pickled peaches, and the rest are sliced, sugared and frozen in small bags.

Roses Always Win

I think, "I'll just do this one last thing and then I'll go inside." And there's no need to put my gloves on because I'm only going to do this "one last thing." Then, before you know it, I'm pruning just one more thing, and still no gloves because I was just going to be outside another minute or two and then go inside. I didn't realize I'd caught a thorn, or that it had caught me, until I looked down to see why my finger was stinging. Yes, that's blood. That thorn was about 3/8" long!

Wild Plums

A few years ago I noticed a small tree in the front yard that was not something I had planted. I let it keep growing and before too long I realized it was a wild plum. It bore fruit, new trees came up from the fallen fruit, and now the area next to the driveway has turned into a little thicket of wild plum trees. This spring's mild temperatures and heavy rain have resulted in a HUGE crop of plums--okay, well, huge relative to the size of the "grove" of trees. The neighbors drive by slowly when I am picking fruit. It's already been established that they think I'm, ummm, different, but I'm willing to bet that they haven't a clue about what I'm doing out there. I don't think there are any other people in the 'hood canning anything.

I've picked about 20 pounds (about 1/4 of them are pictured here in the beautiful orange colander that Micki gave me) and there are still at least that many more still on the trees. Lots of fruit has fallen, too, and when I am picking I can smell the fermenting fruit on the ground. This week I've made 14 pints of wild plum jam. Yum! Unfortunately, the plums are tiny and each one yields only a couple of teaspoons of fruit, so it takes a lot of slicing to prepare enough fruit for the jam. Oh, my wrists and shoulders! But this winter we'll be happy when we are still eating homemade jam.

When Momo Mows

Nothing is more relaxing than mowing the yard on a beautiful spring day. If I had to push a mower all over the yard, I'm sure I wouldn't think it is relaxing, but driving Lonnie the Lawnmower is easy. I wish Mike would fix my drinkholder, though, because riding around in the sun sure makes a girl thirsty. I mow selectively, taking care to leave the brown-eyed Susans, gallardia and larkspur standing. It looks kind of messy in spots, but the payoff is worth it later on when the wildflowers are in bloom. I'm pretty sure the neighbors think I'm a little odd, but they've never complained, even when I'm letting the wildflowers go to seed later in the season.















HEY! Look what I found in the greenhouse today! An amazing amayrillis (see my hand next to it for scale) and lots of little blooms on the rhizomatous begonias. I love the way those little begonia blooms dangle from the tiny stems.

Mikey the Safety Engineer Sustains Another Injury

It is a blogworthy event, although not quite as dramatic as the lightning strike while using a power tool on wet pavement during a thunderstorm. Yes, once again, Mike fails to heed his own professional advice (you know, the advice of a Certified Safety Professional and member of the American Society of Safety Engineers, also known as The Cobblers' Children Who Have No Shoes Society). Wouldn't you protect yourself with gloves if you were welding? Yes, of course you would. But professionals who know the rules are apparently exempt from them. Photographic evidence follows. This is not a stigmata, but a welding-related burn.

Apparently, posting once a month is my limit. I swore I'd push myself to once a week (ooooooh!) but so far that seems to be too big a chore. But I'm still optimistic that I'll get motivated.

The last ski trip was great, but on my birthday one of my friends broke her leg our first day on the mountain--bummer! Now we're back in Breckenridge again and what a perfect day it was today. The sun was shining, no crowds, no wind, lots of packed snow, warm enough to unzip your jacket. Today was probably in the top three of the best ski days ever.

Last weekend was quite a treat, seeing the Creativity Center in LaGrange and meeting the artists in residence, Liz Berg and Virginia Spiegel. I can see how this place would inspire you to create.

Sure, we all knew that Colorado had gotten a lot of snow lately. But when Billie, Peg, Letha and I were on the plane approaching the Denver airport, we were surprised by the expanse of white ground, as far as you could see, in every direction. The runway was partially clean, but there was still lots of ice and snow around the edges, and enormous mounds piled here and there where the snow had been pushed back from the runway. The sun was shining brightly, though and the day looked promising. When we got on the shuttle bound for Breckenridge, the driver told us that our trip would take longer than usual, but he couldn't say how much longer. We had to take an alternate route because of an avalanche that had occurred a couple of hours earlier. The snow had come crashing over the highway, covering several cars, and sending one of them rolling 200 feet or so down the side of the mountain. All eight of the cars' occupants were rescued, but the highway was closed and all of that traffic was going the same way we were. So the 1 1/2 hour trip turned into a 3 1/2 hour trip, but we were just happy to get here.

We had planned to ski today, but when we heard that the HIGH temperature on the mountain was going to be around zero, and that the wind was going to be gusting to 60 mph on the peak, we decided we'd pass. We walked to town, did a little shopping, ate lunch, went to the grocery store and came back to the condo for some of Billie's yummy chili. Tomorrow we ski.

Jose Cuervo, you're not a friend of mine tonight

Tequila and knitting don't mix. Even a novice knitter like me understands that there might be some issues if I continued knitting the afghan after discovering that my last row, which should have consisted of 216 stitches, had somehow grown to 228 stitches. Hmmm. Tequila, combined with a little lime juice, triple sec, and curcacao, is a soothing elixir after a hard day of cooking, entertaining family, giving my mother a permanent (or "home permanent" as she calls it), cutting her hair, cutting my husband's hair, blah, blah, blah. But it might have left me feeling a little too confident and could have diminished my attention span just a little. I couldn't make myself to go sleep with those extra 12 stitches on my mind, so I reverse knitted the row onto a different set of circular needles and then re-knit it back onto the original needles. Yep, I'm feelin' pretty smug right about now. And I came SO close to the 216 stitches that it should have been. SO close.

Imagine...the piano

Last night I went to an exhibit at the Goss Gallery on Cedar Springs in Dallas. The theme is a celebration of world peace, and on view in the gallery (under the watchful eyes of two of Dallas's finest) is the piano on which John Lennon composed "Imagine."
The war-themed photography in the exhibit is stunning.
http://www.gossgallery.com


Afterwards, we went to the home of Kenny Goss and George Michael to have dinner. It is a gorgeous home full of amazing art and I was terrified that I would bump something. A very interesting evening.

weird weather; martini emergency

After spending all of my life in Texas, you'd think nothing would surprise me when it comes to the weather. This morning I took photos of some of my roses because today will definitely be their last hurrah for 2006. Today, a high in the upper seventies--tonight, a low in the mid-twenties! I've put off loading the last of the tender plants into the greenhouse, so tonight I was hauling the little red wagon around, gathering the succulents that have been living on the porches all summer and fall.


I had a rather tiring day, so I decided a martini was in order. WHAT? NO OLIVES? There must be a jar here somewhere...pushing jars of mustard around, peeking behind the apricot preserves. AHA! Olives! But they're stuffed with jalapenos. Well, how bad could it be? Actually, it's very good. In fact, this might be my new favorite. Move over dirty martini--hot and dirty martini is movin' in.

I got so frustrated the last time I posted a blog. Couldn't get photos to load. I tried and tried and it said they were loading but they never showed up. Maybe this time...

I have an odd succulent plant on the front porch that I have had for many years. This year it decided to bloom, and bloom, and bloom again. It has two buds on it at the moment and every morning I get up to see if they have opened yet. The blooms last less than a day and then they wither.

Okay, the photo thing appears to be working so here I go. Look at this baby. Couldn't you just squeeze him?

I knew this would happen

Start keeping a blog and then you're away from home for a couple of weeks, and the blog is neglected.

Is this weather great or what? Just the other day I broke into song, "Our state fair is a great state fair, don't miss it, don't even be late." Every September, when the morning air is chilled, you know that the Great State Fair of Texas can't be far away. On last night's news, Big Tex's head was sitting on the ground, waiting to be hoisted to its perch on Big Tex's shoulders. There was a time when we would stand in front of Big Tex and wait for his jaw to move so that we could hear, "HOW-dee, folks. Wel-come to the State Fair of Texas." Now I just use it as a landmark to find the onion strings and Fletcher's corny dogs.

We had such an awfully dry winter and summer and several small trees in our yard recently died, despite my fairly careful attention. The saddest loss was a 20' river birch that Mike bought me a few years ago. The bark was beautiful and I peeled several pieces of it to save after Mike cut it down.

The roses are very happy about this cooler, wetter weather and have begun a new blooming cycle. Chives are also blooming, as well as the bitterweed, salvias, skullcap, crepe myrtles, mealy blue sage, and spider lilies are popping up here and there.

relief from summer heat

When the cooler fall air arrives, the sunsets seem to be more spectacular. Last evening's sunset was not THAT amazing, but it was lovely.

Faith goes shopping

Mommy needed a break so Momo and Pappy took Faith to IKEA. She's a very good shopper!

Good day sunshine

Jake frowns when he is facing the bright light that comes through the skylights in Lydia's living room. Necessity is the mother of invention. That's an umbrella wedged into the chair, with a blanket draped over it to eliminate the glare.







Yesterday, while Lydia and I hustled between doctors' offices, the Jujube slept through it all. Well, almost all. He did have a moment when they poked his little heel to get some blood, but he went right back to sleep. Five hours and hardly a peep!

A six-pack--the perfect gift; Truth in advertising

If your friend brings you a six-pack of assorted yummy brews as a souvenir from her trip, is that better than a T-shirt? You bet'cha! The reviews are in and Staggering Elk wins by an antler.







The signs over the bananas at the grocery store almost always say "Golden Ripe Bananas," even if they are lime green and hard as those "ripe" avocados they're also selling. At last, my local grocer has acknowledged that not all bananas are "golden ripe." I feel better.

You can call me Mo...

Panic set in when I realized that I had to name my blog. A quick phone call to Sandy and TA-DA! When she said, "How about Momo something?", I knew she was on the right track. Some call me Mo, the grandkids call me Momo, so "One Mo Blog" seemed perfect. Tomorrow I'll figure out how to...oh, why wait? I've got a twelve day-old grandbaby and TICK-TOCK. Before you know it, he'll be saying, "MOMO! Where's the bubble gum machine?"

Here is Baby Jake at his first quilt show with Mommy and Daddy, wearing Momo's shibori T-shirt.