Pizza is popular at our house. Karen and I built a Pompeii brick oven three years ago and, as with our hot tub, we've proven wrong the naysayers who predicted "you'll get tired of it soon and never use it." The only pizza lull of any length occurred December to February last winter when our patio was knee deep or more in snow, except for the neck-deep pile under the edge of our roof.
Guess what we had for dinner tonight.
"How's your garden?" Virginia asks, as if I had prompted her.
I did what I said I'd do in yesterday's blog. I skipped my morning run and headed straight to the garden, where I pulled weeds, finished digging garlic, and planted green beans. Here's the first bed.
The Bowman Women; A Work In Progress
1 week ago