Handy Gadgets: Herb Scissors

Bonus Points if they match your herbs.

It's not that I'm cheap, it's just that it never occurs to me to look for a better way of doing things. And... I hate shopping.

I dumped torn chunks of herbs in my salads and told people I was into the 'whole herb' method of cooking. The fact that I was tired of slicing my fingers open while chopping herbs with a knife was cunningly never mentioned by moi.

I am nothing if not creative in my use of excuses.

But these herb scissors are great. True to form, I had seen them in shops but reasoned that I already had a pair of scissors at home and owning two of anything just seemed silly. Finally, I found them on a clearance shelf in Chapters Indigo in Ancaster.

"Owning two of something if the second item is on offer is not silly at all!" I told my son, and brought them home.

I should have bought some years ago. No  more 'whole herb' cooking for me (unless the recipe calls for it). They are fast, efficient, easy to clean and, she blushed, she is more likely to use the herbs in the garden because of the excuse to haul out the cool herb scissors.

Be warned, however: when your 6-year-old asks to borrow the kitchen scissors, watch which pair he takes. Playdoh is not so easy to remove from between the blades.

They are available at a number of retailers.

Diversity Rocks

My kids named him 'Froggy'.

 
Here we are, beginning the second full summer in Wonderful Westover, and I have noticed something. There have been hints, of course, but now I am sure of it.

Diversity has come to Schoolhouse Rocks.

We arrived 2 years ago in the middle of August. In the midst of all the unpacking we found notes left for us by the previous owners. On a box full of canning jars: "Jessica, these were my mother's. I thought you would find a use for them". In the workshop, on a bench strewn with tools: "Paul, thank you for giving my father's tools a home, use them well". Sweet people, the ones who sold us their home, and they left us a welcome home gift basket in the immaculate kitchen, too.

But one note, on two bins full of chemical pesticides and fertilisers caused a problem: "Thought you'd find this helpful in your new country garden". Not their fault, they couldn't know that I don't use chemicals in my garden or in my house. So here I was left with 30 POUNDS of chemicals all dressed up and no where to be used.

At the same time, I mentioned to my husband that there didn't seem to be quite the number of birds and bugs in the yard as I had expected. Our Etobicoke garden was a busy, buzzy, tweety place. Here, nothing. But, there's a lot of empty farmland around us, now, I thought. I guess the birds and the bees have better places to be than close to all these people.

In the fall, we carted all those chemicals to the waste depot, paid the hazardous fee to get rid of it, and went on a hike in the Dundas Valley.

The following summer, my sons and I counted 5 different kinds of butterflies in one walk through the garden. The weeds were thriving, something was devouring all my lettuce. I planted more seeds. The second batch of lettuce did much better. We found three snakes living in the vegetable garden. There was a HUGE toad living under the rhubarb I'd brought with me from Etobicoke. The clear, clean, spotless pond left for us by the previous owners was struggling with algae. There were seven frogs living in it and my goldfish gave birth to about 1000 babies.

I looked at the pictures taken of the yard before we moved in. I looked at the garden around me. It was a disaster

This year, I am sitting on the porch of the garden cottage, writing, and counting the birds who are bathing in the stream of the little pond. Robins, finches, flycatchers, sparrows, chickadees, warblers, orioles, cedar waxwings, an indigo bunting (they're nesting in a hanging coconut we put up for a bird feeder) and some guy who won't sit still for me long enough to find him in my bird book. A pair of hummingbirds have found the beardtongue in the cottage garden. There are some hawks nearby, we see them hanging over us in the afternoon. We have a new snake this year. More new butterflies have arrived. The carrots I left in the ground last year are flowering (I want the seeds). They are like giant Queen-Anne's Lace, and are covered with caterpillars. The dill and new carrots beside them are pristine and untouched. There's not a single hole in my lettuce, or in my hostas. I'm still working on protecting the pak choy, but I think planting them among the garlic and leeks will discourage the hungry critters.

The garden doesn't look so much like a disaster to me, anymore. It's neither neat, nor tidy. There are weeds. The pond tends to the green if I don't keep on top of it. I have twitch grass growing in the irises, darn it all. The grass is being taken over by lemon balm, of all things. The yard is attempting an assault on the gravel drive. When I was weeding the cucumbers yesterday, I came face-to-face with a very young finch. It was his learn-to-fly day. He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him. We watched each other, then he decided discretion was the better part of valour, spread his wings, and flew away. There are bees in the nigella, butterflies in the monarda, and the neighbour's chickens are coming over for a visit.

Not a disaster, just diverse