Persimmon Dilemma

What do you do with a persimmon?

My husband brought one home after an office potluck lunch. My first thought was, “What an odd choice for a potluck lunch! How was anyone supposed to eat it?” My next dilemma was what to do with it. Neither of us had a clue.

While it sat on our kitchen counter, I researched persimmons in our some of our kitchen reference books, finding few answers. In all my life, my only contact with persimmons was in cookies made by someone in California, who had a tree in her yard. I don’t believe I ever saw one until this one arrived in my house last week. Now, I need to tell you, this is a house where fruits and vegetables are consumed in quantity on a daily basis, so it’s not as if we are fruit phobic.

Determined not to waste the tempting but puzzling fruit, I cut it open the same way I would an apple, peeling away the rather tough skin, and sliced off a small piece to try. It was sweet and pleasant, but not something I might eat whole. My solution: chop it up and add it to the day’s smoothie concoction, a healthful treat I make in the blender using whatever fresh fruit, yogurt and juice happen to be on hand.

Here’s my recipe for a persimmon smoothie:

In the blender, puree: 3-4 large strawberries; about a quarter cup of blueberries; a chopped, peeled ripe persimmon; a handful of red and green seedless grapes. Then add half a small container of key lime yogurt (I use Stonyfield because it’s not overly sweet) and fill the blender jar to about half full or so with orange juice. Blend it on low a bit and then crank it up to high to get a nice frothy smoothie. Enjoy.

Cracking the Federal Job Puzzle

I’m reading a book on how to get a government job by expert Kathryn Troutman. It’s an excellent and comprehensive guidebook. The process of getting a federal job is a bit overwhelming…and very time consuming…but in the D.C. area, a federal job may be a good way to go, especially in today’s tricky job market.

Enjoying a bit of shade on the deck on a hot steamy June day, I started to follow the author’s suggested tactics. I ticked off all the agencies where I’d like to work and then the federal job titles that might fit me. Well, that was easy, and I felt a sense of accomplishment.

Next to do: see if there are any such jobs open, revise my resume to comply with government style, write some KSAs (haven’t figured out yet what these should look like, but they are essays about your knowledge, skills and abilities) and network. Oh yeah, simple...

…but, I’m told, very worthwhile, so I trudge on.

The First Taste

I pulled out our sharpest paring knife to make the incision in our first yellow cherry tomato (See the previous post for its portrait). This little guy was going to be shared by two eager, hungry, D.C. deck gardeners. We had already waited long enough.

Cut into two half moons, the succulent little yellow morsels went into our mouths simultaneously. Mmm. Mmm.

Another small success.

The First Harvest

Okay…drum roll. Ceremoniously, we clipped the first tomato and bowed to our royal queen, the tallest of the two “girls.” The little yellow orb was like a piece of organic gold…only edible.

We took tomato #1 to the kitchen, rinsed and dried it. We placed it in the center of our small bamboo cutting board and measured it—pretty tiny at about 7/8th of an inch in diameter, but so beautiful.

We haven’t brought ourselves to cut it open yet, though. Maybe tonight.

Good Friends

I am a lucky person to have such good friends. Just when it seemed like the world might be falling apart after being laid off from a job I loved, a raft of caring people came to my aid and comfort. Whether it’s a kind word, a gift, a connection, a job tip, an article, lunch or just “hi,” every touch has made a difference.

Update:
By the way, for those who may be wondering about our cardinal chick, the little gray blob is probably a fluffy reddish teenager by now, flying off to new horizons. Birds rarely stay around once they leave the nest.

Searching

Within minutes after I first saw it, the cardinal fledgling disappeared from view after waddling under the rosemary plant in my garden. I never saw it again, but both parents frantically looked for this chick and possibly others for the rest of the day and into the next.

Where are they? Mama and papa cardinal seemed to be looking all over for their fledglings. I saw mama looking over both sides of the fence this morning, and just a while ago she ventured near the back door where I saw the chick’s first appearance yesterday.

I’m hoping that they find each other and no nocturnal predator or local feral cat will intervene.

A Ball of Fluff

It happened! The cardinal chicks fledged! Sitting at my desk, I heard a small noise outside the sliding glass doors next to me. When I turned to check it out, there it was. A little gray head poked up, facing me, over the bottom of the door frame.

One very tiny, fluffy gray fledgling had descended from its curly willow nest hideaway to land on the concrete steps outside the door around 4 p.m. Confused, it tapped against the glass a couple of times, probably seeing a reflection.

Quickly I moved to sit just inside the door for a very short close-up look. On top of its little head were the beginnings of a reddish crest. Papa sat not far away, watching and, I’m sure, waiting for me to go away.

On the chance that the baby would still be there when I returned, I ran upstairs to get my camera. By the time I returned, the chick had hopped (or flown?) up the stairs to begin its travels to safety. But I was able to capture the fuzzy moment, even through the glass and screen door layers.

Odds are there were other fledglings, but I never saw them.

Cardinals Take Over

We love our deck, and we also love birds. This year the two became entwined in a bird family event.

In May, two cardinals chose a protected spot in our curly willow tree to build a nest and have their offspring. Day by day, we watched them dart in and out of their sanctuary, perching first on a bare arch in a branch (see it on the right in the photo; the nest was in the clump to the left ) before darting down into our yard to collect nest material. Then came egg-laying time. Suddenly, we were not welcome on our own deck anymore.

Both mama and papa cardinal scolded us constantly, chipping and swooping to let us know we should go inside, no matter how quiet and still we were. Before we knew it, within a week or so, both birds were bringing food to the nest, picking up morsels from our yard and from around the neighborhood. The eggs had hatched. They were only a few feet from our back door, but we never heard nor saw the hungry chicks. Even with precarious body contortions, leaning backwards and hanging over the deck railing, we could not see the nest either.

So, we waited. The days went by, and we hoped to soon see tiny cardinals fledge.

Gully Washers

In my lifetime, I can’t remember a spring this wet. On many gray May and June days, our tiny yard filled with huge gushing puddles, including today. It seems like it will never end and I worry sometimes whether the yard can absorb any more water. We’ve had monster thunderstorms, gully-washing downpours and hailstorm threats over and over ever since the “girls” came home with me.

Since I adopted them, I have been treating my two tomato queens royally. After all, the better I treat them, the better they will treat me with mouth-watering red and yellow bite-sized gems. It’s just like any other relationship: you get what you give.

So, when the clouds start gathering and the local weather forecast shows imminent danger from above, I go into action. When the “girls” were small, it was easy to bring them in the house when the sky looked ominous. I set up an emergency spot in the livingroom where they could ride out the storms, sometimes overnight. But they complained and pouted, almost asking to be put back out. My “girls” drooped after a few hours in the air conditioning, even with the nearby vent closed. So, now they stay outside all the time. Besides, they’ve gotten so big and laden with ripening fruit, all we can really do is slide them against the house for a little protection during a storm.

Such a nice problem to have!

The Tomato Connection

Since my March layoff, I have become the proud parent of two “girls.” We met in May when I adopted them at a local garden center. It was love…and salivation…at first sight and in anticipation of the first bite.

Two small plants came home with me that day—both of which will eventually produce scrumptious cherry tomatoes, both red and yellow. My “girls,” as I call them, spent their first night tucked into two large patio pots in rich organic soil, staked for stability when they grew tall enough to need it. I surrounded them with companions: a ring of brilliant orange marigolds. Nearby, I also installed sweet and Thai basil plants to watch over their fruit-producing wards and fend off those nasty, disgusting and destructive tomato hornworms. Welcome to my deck garden.

Our deck gets just enough sun—about six hours a day when the weather permits it—to thrive. The rooflines in our townhouse community and several mature trees make the sun weave a patchwork of daytime glow that differs on each deck down the line. In the early morning, the sun hits only the right back corner. Then it bathes the center most of the mid-day, leaving a small sunny patch on the left outside corner for about an hour until it leaves our deck for the day around 4 p.m. The “girls” get the best of it, moving from one spot to another because, well, I have the time and I’m here.

Between Successes

Nowadays I am taking life one step at a time. Fairly fresh from a layoff as a marketing director for a nonprofit association, I finally learned—the hard way—that life offers no guarantees and I am not indispensable. Jobs aren’t forever. Nothing is forever. And, while I was blindsided this time, I won’t be again.

Life is fluid, and it ebbs and flows like the stream that runs to the river near our neighborhood. As my sage older brother intones, “Life rushes by.” This maxim is his call to action, his way to viewing how he spends his discretionary time, and I’ve adopted it too.

Professionally, I’m “between successes,” but I like to think that each day will be a success in at least some small way. For instance, earlier this week I tripped in D.C. and nearly landed in the street on Connecticut Avenue, but I caught myself on the rim of a trash bin on the sidewalk and managed to avoid a disastrously twisted ankle. Now, is that a success? Well, it’s a small one.

I also met some very interesting people where I was heading before I almost fell. The morning event, which included a primer in getting a government job, turned out to be a rewarding experience overall. As a plus, I was able to help two fellow jobseekers that day with ideas and connections that were new to them, and I took my first baby step towards tackling the government job hunt process. All of that makes the day a success, in my book.