I think that my garden has an invisible sign that welcomes all wildlife to come and taste thereof. My one lone canteloupe that withstood my bad gardening habits met an untimely end and became a gourmet meal for something with a small mouth. It was nibbled perfectly in half. I suppose I could play CSI and take a bite mold. Ha. CSI:Garden of Desolation. I had such high hopes for my garden. Unfortunately, earlier this year when I planted 3 rows of beans and 3 rows of zipper peas, I planted them too deep, and only a quarter-row of beans came up and 3 pea plants raised timid heads. Our tomato plant is doing all right, but everything else is merely half-hearted.
I spent some therapeutic time in the kitchen yesterday, baking whole wheat bread, banana bread and veggie pie. I even snipped fresh herbs into my pie dough--thyme, to be exact. I diced all my vegetables, cut up some more fresh herbs--thyme, rosemary, sage--and cooked it all up with a Parmesan sauce. It's a surefire way to get Owen to eat his vegetables. (In a pie, go figure. With a cup of sweet tea, too.) Is this like adding applesauce to cookie dough and calling it a serving of fruit?
The "GVP" on the crust stands for what else but Garden Vegetable Pie. Yummy. After sharing it with the in-laws for lunch today, it is gonzo.