I made a lemon meringue pie this week.  I got the recipe from Brydie of cityhippyfarmgirl.  It is

different and delicious and I don’t think I cooked the filling quite long enough.  If you make it- make

sure it comes to a definite slow boil.

Frank’s mother made lemon meringue pie with bananas on the bottom.  He wants me to do that for

him but I can’t.  Really- I just cannot do that.  For one thing- that would NOT be an lemon meringue pie

and secondly- I hate bananas.   Don’t ask me why she did it- she was a Hungarian woman trying out 

Canadian desserts and I think she got the pies mixed up. 

I also made a Rhubarb custard pie-

which turned out rather well!

I wish I could grow rhubarb.  My soil is mostly a heavy clay

and it doesn’t do well in my garden.  But for $3 a bunch, I will keep on buying it – that’s not a bad price

for this tart and tangy treat!

And there has been bread.  Baked and fried-  I love the fried sourdough- it puffed up into crunchy

cracker like bread pockets- with kosher salt and sesame seeds- such a treat.

There will always be bread.

And arugula!

My friend,Jane, grew a bumper crop and invited me to come and pick. 

What a delight.  I made wilted arugula salad.  I used it on a sandwich and it was perfect.

And I made a pasta salad with arugula mixed with other green leaf lettuces-

I feasted on arugula last week.

Notice how I said “I”- Frank said, “ Are you kidding me?  Where is the iceberg lettuce?”

No arugula for Frank.

(And no bananas in the lemon meringue pie, either!!!)

Growing up in a large family gives one perspective.  I am number 6 of seven children.

I saw relationships at work all around me- sibling, parental, partner, gender- there was

always something going on.  And because I was so much younger than my older sibs- I often

had the opportunity to watch them go through many of the trials and changes in life and learn

from their mistakes and wise choices.  I saw rivalries and teamwork, watched them work out

strategies and winced at some of the colossal fails.    But I also watched my parents and took careful

note of their relationship.  

My father loved my mother absolutely.  Even when she was at her most contrary- he adored her.

He would not always understand her- but he was in her corner as her greatest advocate.  His instruction

to me was invariably “ Mind your mother” .

  My parents owned a greenhouse, but my father also worked a full time job, so a lot of the work and

responsibility of running the greenhouse fell to my mother and my older brothers.  My mom was a florist

and made bouquets and corsages, funeral baskets and grave blankets- and she would transplant all the

seedlings in the winter and spring.  My father had a transplanting area set up for her in the back of the

commercial greenhouse- in an alcove between the little greenhouse where he kept his special plants and

the service room that housed the pots and flats and heaters and other paraphernalia that kept the business

running efficiently.

It was very much her area- the bench at the right height for her to plant without too much bending- a chair to

ease her back- foam mats (always encrusted with soil) and lighting right above her station for the times when

she had to plant into the night to keep up with the season.  The greenhouse was where their partnership showed

the most to me- they worked together to make it a success.

So- when my husband called me into the front yard the other day and showed me this-

a planting station that he set up for me- it spoke to me of his love for me.

He didn’t really understand why I broke into tears- or why I kissed him so ferociously- but he was pleased that I was happy!

My love language from my childhood  eye-  he provided a safe and comfortable space to plant the containers for our yard.

I planted up 14 different containers, my hands busy, my heart full, humming a happy little tune. 

Because I felt so loved.