this morning i lifted the flap of the newspaper tent i built over the green tomatoes. wow.
i’m doing something different this year. in other years, i wrapped them in newspaper and put them in a box to ripen. they did ok, but we never got that really good red. and i picked them all off the vines before getting wanda’s email about ripening them in the cellar on the dead plants.
so i decided to try the magic pool table method.
this is the method invented by my mom. my dad probably thought she came up with it just to make him crazy, but she really believed in it, and now, so do i.
i’m sure she started doing it this way because the pool table looked to her like a vast expanse of unused space. but when the tomatoes ripened reliably and more beautifully there than in any other spot in the house, she returned to using this method exclusively, pronouncing it “the right way”. she was pretty sure the 100% wool pool felt had something to do with it.
my dad was pretty sure that all he would get out of it was rotten tomato juice on his pool felt—not the best thing for it. but he knew better than to complain.
anyway, when my mom sold the family home after my dad died, and moved to a condo, guess who inherited the pool table (you didn’t know i love to shoot pool did you??).
the table needs to be reburbished very badly—in the years since my dad could last use it, it has suffered through what must have been the grand moths jamboree. and numerous other indignities.
so until such time as we get around to bringing it back up to snuff for playing, i will use it to ripen my tomatoes.
i really REALLY wanted to show you photos of the raven shawl on the dress form today, but i did not get it photographed before dark. tomorrow—i promise
instead you get this lovely photo of my stockinette swatch in totally accurate colors. i have spent the last two days glued to my computer, trying to get that pattern out to the test knitters and i just finished. yay.
and because liz is convinced that i can make pattern writing look sexy, i give you this
i dunno liz . . .