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2006-06-05 * The Curse of the Black Thumb Meet Frank The Curse of the Black Thumb.... Many years ago a traveling seedling salesman fell madly in love with my great, great, great, great grandmother in Ireland. Alas, her heart was already given to a handsome black-haired fisherman, and she told the seedling seller that he would have to look elsewhere for a wife. Little did she know that he was allied with the Dark Court (he cultivated poisonous plants for their wicked spells). He went to his friends under the hill for redress, and they laid upon my ancestress The Curse. Ever after, her kitchen garden withered and died, and even cut flowers drooped and dropped their leaves mere hours after entering her house. The curse is still active in my family, though it skips a generation here and there. Sadly, it has not skipped mine. True story? Um, no, not really. Just a more interesting way to say that I am horrible with plants, and tempting fate by naming Frank there. I'm hoping that the bouganvilla (planted by the person who owns this apartment, so perhaps will remain untouched by the curse) isn't whispering to Frank about what happened to my *last* basil plant. But, herbs are supposed to go to seed and die back completely at the end of the summer, right? Well, at least I remember to feed and water myself. I have a cast iron dutch oven full of beef stroganoff in the oven right now, and am crossing my fingers that I can add this recipe to my repetoir (i.e. that it turns out yummy). Cross your fingers for me, and I'll let you know tomorrow how it went.
reading: The Camelot Caper by Elizabeth Peters |
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