Snow Days.

It snowed. A lot. Well, at least for Upstate South Carolina, six inches of snow qualifies for a blizzard. Scoff, you northern friends—but add a layer of ice on top of the six inches of snow, subtract major road-clearing equipment, and the southeast shuts down. The southern folk must live on a French toast diet during snowstorms. As soon as a flurry flutters, bread, milk, and eggs fly off the grocery stores' shelves.
 
(Seriously, we get nervous with the ice-business. Some of us have lived through week-long power outages after a particularly nasty ice storm. It's not pretty.)

So, we're on day number two of no school, the kids are still in PJs, and even Peter is lounging on the sofa.

I, however, am busy.

While the neighbors are sledding and the dogs are playing like little kids in the backyard winter wonderland, I'm playing, too.

In the dirt.

Spring is coming, and my first round of planting—fraise des bois (alpine strawberries) and about 30 varieties of herbs--is well underway. In a month, it will be time for tomato-craziness, but right now, my downstairs gardening is still in the blissed-out, relaxed mode.

A few seedlings here....

...a few transplants there...

....a few frosty trips to the greenhouse...

...and a blooming bougainvillea, just for your viewing pleasure.

(I highly recommend greenhouses to combat seasonal affective disorder—or just to escape the snow and cold for a few minutes and surround yourself with flowers and greenery. My mood definitely improves after a trip to the greenhouse.)

Spring is coming, I promise.

See? The first little sign of deliciousness to come...

Until then, stay warm, travel safely (or not at all), and dream of summer.

 XO ~

Julie

P.S. Just found out that we'll have another snow day tomorrow. Perhaps I'll put the kids to work...what are the child labor laws regarding family businesses? I need some seed trays scrubbed. Hmmm...

The Desk.

It's been more than a month since my last post. Did you think I left for the weekend—and just didn't return?

We all know how crazy December is. Add in a couple of family birthdays, school parties (who thought it was a good idea to be room mom for both kids' classes?), as well as a little one with the flu—and it's easy to put everything else on the back burner. Plus, I'm now in the throes of my post-holiday sickness...an annual ritual of coughing, sore throat, and headache that I fend off until after Christmas every year. Yippee. Please pardon my muddled thoughts.

So, here we are, a month after the Carolina Farm Stewardship Sustainable Agriculture Conference, and as excited as I am to share with you insight into all of the amazing sessions and interesting growing strategies that I learned, I'm afraid I have some housekeeping to do first.

My desk.

There's a hazard to owning a home-based business. Everyone thinks that my work space is their play space. Kristen searches obsessively for chicken breeds, coop designs, and rescue pups on my computer. The last Google search on my iMac? “How to get your parents to let you have a sleepover.”

Seriously.

Michael plays Poptropica while I need to write. Peter just joined Facebook, so now when I want to check on my friends, I often end up posting as him—because he's left his account open.

Or he's online, searching for sailboats.

Here's the thing: we have a computer in the living room. With Internet access. Peter also has a laptop. With wireless.

It's not even the lack-of-access that bothers me. It's the amount of stuff that is left on my desk. I need a fairly clutter-free space when I try to write or work, otherwise I tend to feel mentally disheveled. It's not that I'm a neat freak (I know Peter is laughing out loud about that)--I just need some breathing room.

So, in an effort to reclaim my work space and my computer, I thought I'd share with you—in no particular order--what I discovered as I cleaned my desk:

• Three paper towels.
• Four plastic bags.
• 1 pair of horse earrings.
• Essential Herbal Wisdom.
• Encyclopedia of Herb Gardening.
• A back scratcher—one of my favorite gifts, chosen with care by 5-year-old Michael at the school's Santa Shop.
• My nieces' Christmas lists.
• Washing tips for the kids' Christmas Pjs.
• A coupon for Hanna Andersson.
• The receipt for the kids' Christmas PJs. (What was I thinking?)
• A file with documents about my parents' estate.
• Tyler's Christmas list (which somehow printed in a 2-point font size. Who knows if he really got what he wanted?)
• The CD of the kids' Christmas pictures, taken by the fabulously talented Jessie of Smilin' Down Photography. Isn't she great? (And patient. I'm not sure what I was thinking, bringing light sabers to the photo shoot, but Jessie rolled with it.)

To continue...

• “Care and planting of your ginseng seeds and rootlets.” The most expensive seeds I have ever ordered. Please grow, seeds.
• A box of snowman Christmas gift tags.
• “Questions to ask when reading a book.” *

*Note: According to this list, there are 25 questions to ask when reading a book. Now, maybe I'm crazy, but if my kindergartner looked for every contraction, compound word, blend, antonym, and punctuation mark while he was reading The Time Warp Trio, I can assure you it would take us a full month to read the book. Plus, somehow, I can imagine it would kill his love of books. Maybe we could reduce the list to a few questions, like #24: “What was your favorite part of the book? Why?” But that's just my opinion.

Onward:

• “Individual Summary—Universal Screening in Reading, 5K.”
• Word cards.
• Business card for Tradd Cotter, the mushroom guru from Mushroom Mountain. I promise, once my desk is clean, I am going to write about Tradd's workshop for growing mushrooms. He is a mushroom God.
• Tyler's checking account bank statements. Trust me—if you're looking to begin a life of crime in 2011, don't pick Ty's account to hack. You'll find more money under the sofa cushions.
• Sky Top Orchard brochure. In a fit of locavorism prior to Thanksgiving, I realized I needed to replenish our supply of local apples. My quest entailed an hour drive to North Carolina, where I stocked up on several gallons of apple cider and about six enormous bags of various, lovely North Carolina apples. After chatting with the owner about the pros and cons of heirloom apples, I pulled out my debit card to pay. Guess what? “Check or cash.” After spluttering apologies and asking where the nearest ATM might be (way down the mountain), that incredibly kind man handed me the brochure with the address for Sky Top, and just asked that I mail him a check when I got home. Then he helped me load all of my goodies into the van...in the freezing rain. Truly, there are good souls in the world. (And yes, I mailed the check the next morning.)

Back to the desk...

• A letter about an organic gardening presentation I'm making on Monday.
• An IRS filing statement that I need to take to Warptek, Peter's company. (Yes, it was done.)
• An “All About Kindergarten” folder that I use to contain all of the many tools sent home by Mikey's teacher.
• The menus from “Outstanding in the Field” and the “Hub City Farmer's Market Farm Dinner.”
• Receipt for my excessive order of garlic.
• Box Tops for Education.
• My mom's obituary.
• The business card from the guy who just rang the doorbell, wanting to clean our gutters. (No thank you.)
• Instructions on growing mushrooms.
• Oh my gosh, another receipt for garlic! Ack. (Well, at least, it's all planted.)
• Uh oh. A rebate offer. Need to look at that one.
• Hmmm. A homemade Valentine with a picture of Michael—but the signature says, “Love, Kristen.” Intriguing.
• A seed order receipt.
• Newsweek. From September 20.
• Passionflower seeds. On a paper plate. (It was a seed saving endeavor.)
• “Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Let Me Rent Braveheart.” A little background: Braveheart is a horse that was for lease at the stables where Kristen takes horseback riding lessons. Here's her list:

Convincing, isn't it? (We're not leasing Braveheart.)

• “Welcome to a Great Year in Fourth Grade.” Check.
• A stack of Garden Delights orders from last spring, along with last year's inventory spreadsheet, to determine what to grow in 2011.
• Warm Crab Parmesan Dip, Raspberry Crisp, and Tomato Salsa recipes.
• A receipt for Mikey's soccer program, which he didn't attend due to a broken arm. $65 well-spent.
• School Year Calendar.
• Checkbook.
• iPhone case, which I never use—but should—since I shattered my first phone.
• Yippee! A Barnes and Noble gift-card, which I received from their customer service department after spending one hour and 13 minutes on the phone with them, trying to get a Christmas shipment corrected.
• My tattered Webster's Handy College Dictionary. I just like having it close, even if I haven't used it in years.
• Michael's MAP scores.
• A friend's phone number.
• “A Very Merry Kidz Bop.”
• At Blachard's Table. This is the cookbook that accompanies one of my favorite books, A Trip to the Beach, by Melinda and Richard Blanchard. If you're ever in a rut and dream of making a change, A Trip to the Beach is incredibly inspiring. FIVE STARS. (My own rating.)
• A postcard from my in-laws. Bep and Peter (my Peter's mom and dad) know how to be retired—they're always traveling, visiting friends and family, or just exploring. I want to be like them when I grow up.
• Barnes and Noble receipts.
• Love notes from Mikey.

• Seed catalogs. What a surprise.
• Seed to Seed by Suzanne Ashworth. While not a beautiful gardening book, Seed to Seed is a wealth of information about—take a guess—starting seeds. Trust me—not all seeds grow under the same conditions. Light, dark, stratification, scarification, germination rates, heat requirements—it's all in here. It's a permanent fixture on my desk.
• A reminder to renew my Garden Delights business license. That's kind of important.
• The New York Times Book Review. Love it. December 26.
• Five Webkinz tags.
• A parking receipt from the CFSA conference.
• Two extremely elaborate drawings of pirate ships, complete with cannons and guns. Can you guess who the artist is?
• An expired ETV member card.
• Eye drops.
• A beautiful tulip tile from Turkey, the hotly contested Christmas present at our book club Christmas exchange. It was stolen twice to end up in my possession, and it will be hung prominently in our new kitchen--whenever the kitchen is actually done. (Thank you, Kathy!)
• A piece of paper with the number “8”--which was my draw in the Christmas gift exchange.
• An angel ornament. Shoot. I knew I'd find something else after the Christmas decorations were put away.
• A Lichtenfelt Nursery gift card! Yippee!
• Paintbrushes, from my fabulous attempt at making sugared pansies. I think those will go to the kids' art supplies.
• A seashell.
• A keychain. The key chain isn't much to look at, but when you hold it up to the light and look through the viewfinder, there is a tiny picture of my dad mid-golf swing.
• My camera. My lovely, fabulous new camera. I WILL learn how to do more with it than shoot on automatic.
• My iPhone.
• Dust. Lots of it.

So, there you have it. My desk is now (somewhat) clean, my mental state is a bit more organized...and when you find that your desk is messy, you can feel so much better about yourself since you now know what constitutes a true mess.

Sadly, as I tackled this project, I've realized that the majority of things on my desk were, actually, my things.

Yeesh.

Now, I have no excuse...except that I'm sick...for not writing.

Thanks for sticking with me as I cleaned my desk. Next time, I promise—I'll try to write something worth reading.

Happy New Year, my friends!

XO ~

Julie

Road Trip.

I'm ridiculously excited. I'm taking a road trip--by myself! I'm heading up to Winston-Salem, NC for the Carolina Farm Stewardship Association's Sustainable Agriculture Conference. What's even more exciting than the fact that I received a "Beginning Farmer" scholarship that covers the cost of the conference--I am spending two (yes, TWO) nights in a hotel. Alone.

No little boy whining when I make him turn off the Wii.

No girlie talking my ears off about her NEED for a horse.

No college boy calling for cash. (Actually, I suppose he can still call me...but my phone will be off the majority of the time.)

No pups whining at 7 a.m. to go out. No cats meowing at 7 a.m. to be fed.

No hubby snoring in my ear. (Sorry, honey...I'm just looking forward to a good night's sleep.)

Actually...

...it sounds a little lonely.

I can't remember the last time I've been away from my family. I think it might have been the Great College Tour I took with Tyler a few years ago, but still--I was on serious Mom-Duty. Airports. Colleges. Auditions. Schedules. It was nutty.

While it feels very self-indulgent to attend the conference, I 'm excited for all of the workshops--there's still so much to learn, and CFSA recruited the cream-of-the-crop (pardon the pun) to lead the sessions. In case you aren't familiar with CFSA, the organization is devoted to helping "people in the Carolinas grow and eat local, organic foods by advocating for fair farm and food policies, building the systems family farms need to thrive, and educating and organizing farmers and the communities they serve."

Pretty noble organization, huh?

So, my friends, I'm off to pack my bag for my Mommy/Farmer road trip. I hope I remember how to make conversation with grown-ups. I think I'll brush up on the varieties of tomatoes I grow, just in case...

Tomorrow, though...I'm learning about mushrooms. My new, cute little netbook and I will fill you in on the exciting happenings of the CFSA conference throughout the weekend, so stay tuned! 

I just wish I could clone myself so that I could attend all of the workshops and events. 

So much to learn, so little time...

Happy Friday!

XO ~

Julie

The Great Tomato Choke.

I spend too much time talking to plants.

On Sunday, my family and I headed out to find the perfect, non-Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Our oldest son was home for the holidays but needed to head back to college, so rather than spend two hours driving to North Carolina in search of a cut-your-own Fraiser Fir, we drove ten minutes to a lot behind our local mall. It's not very romantic, and I felt kind of bad about it—but it was more important to me that Ty participate in our annual tree selection. He's my champion, the one who fights the good fight with me for the biggest, fullest, most lush tree, while Peter rolls his eyes and reminds us of the ceiling height.

Our tree outings typically take hours. It's genetic. When I was a child, the only time I remember my parents arguing was during our annual foray for the Christmas tree.

“The top is crooked.”
“There's a hole on the side.”
“The trunk isn't straight.”
“Not full enough.”

Such festive memories. (If you do want to cut your own tree, check out http://localharvest.org or http://pickyourown.org for a tree farm near you.)

As I mentally prepared to fight the good fight for the biggest, best tree, we got out of the car (aka Mom Mobile and Garden Delights' delivery van) and were greeted by Brian, the owner of the tree lot.

We've gone to Brian a few times, but this was our first visit with my official Garden Delights logo magnet on the car.

“Garden Delights. What's that?” he asked.

I started my quick description of the company—the ten cent version for people who I think are just making polite conversation.

“What varieties do you grow?”

Silence. From me. Miss Tomato-Guru.

“Ummm...heirlooms. I grow organic heirlooms,” I sputtered.

“Yeah, but what varieties?”

“About 130 different varieties.”

“OK, but WHICH ONES?”

Oh. Umm. Well. Let's see.

There's more than one?

I could not name a single variety.

Peter and Tyler looked at me and waited. By this time, Mikey and Kristen—seeing no need to listen to grown-up conversation--ran off to select a tree, while their mother fumbled and mumbled and acted like an idiot.

Even Peter, who until this year could not find value in heirloom tomatoes (“Tomatoes are just round and red” is his usual statement), started rattling off varieties while I stood there, speechless.

I was mute. Incapable of naming anything but colors. Purple, black, yellow, orange, green, pink...but not one variety popped into my head. Brian looked at me the way a member of Greenpeace would look at an Exxon executive trying to greenwash the Gulf disaster. My credibility as an heirloom expert evaporated. Oh—did I mention that he was asking about the varieties because he wanted to carry my products in the spring?

Shoot me.

Now, it would be easy to blame my lack of speech to numerous factors: too much turkey, which resulted in mental sluggishness. Too much wine the night prior. Too little sleep.

Instead, I've realized that my brain no longer multi-tasks.

We were on a family outing, looking for trees, searching for some Christmas spirit. Tomatoes were far from my thoughts. Herbs, sure—I've been sowing seeds already for the spring, because they tend to take longer to grow into something I would be proud to sell. Tomatoes?  I won't start those seeds until February.

But here's the thing: I used to speak in public. A lot. I triple majored in speech communications, advertising, and public relations—with a lot of political science classes thrown in for good measure. I planned to be a political speech writer. (I'm glad I had the  sense not to pursue that endeavor.)

In my former life, I gave presentations. Talked to clients. Pitched authors and their books to the media. I trained people in public speaking, for goodness sake! My entire career was based on talking and writing.

And now that I have my own business that I believe in, products that I think are pretty unique and impressive, and a sustainability story that rivals any company, I couldn't form a cohesive sentence about my own products to a potential customer.

Somehow, kind Brian still asked for my card and said he'd look up the varieties on the website, after I finally mumbled a few names of tomatoes while looking for a hole to crawl in. Here's the clincher: did I have a card with me?

Take a wild guess.

So, I scribbled my website on the scrap of paper I found in the Mom Mobile, apologized about my lack of professionalism, and gurgled something about needing to look for the kids so that my (very) red cheeks and I could escape.

The moral of the story is: Be Prepared. Just like a Boy Scout. Know your story, and be ready to tell it in any situation. At least, make sure you have business cards tucked into every pocket/wallet/cup holder/bra...whatever it takes to have one available. You can always direct a potential customer/client to the website if you don't have much time to talk (or many brain cells functioning).

The second lesson is: let a 9-year-old and 5-year-old run free among Christmas trees while you attempt to talk with the tree lot owner.  By the time I was through humiliating myself, the kids found the perfect tree—and I don't say that lightly. Take a look:

Finally, remember this:

No matter how much you love your work--if you work alone all day, make certain you talk to grown ups once in awhile, or you just may lose all social skills.

Trust me.

Anyone want to have lunch? I promise, I won't talk about compost and worms over lunch, honest!

Call me!

XO ~

A humbled and embarrassed gardener girl.
 

The Super Cheap, Ultra Quick, Done-in-Five-Minutes Gift. (Plus Prizes!)

'Tis the season to be stressed, fa la la la la, la la la...

...la.

When did it become de facto to play Christmas music the day after Halloween? Personally, I boycott the stations that are Decking the Halls and Jingling the Bells. I need to celebrate the  holidays sequentially, with a day or two of rest in between. I don't have the fortitude to wake at 3 a.m. November 26 to shop after spending two marathon days in the kitchen prepping, cooking, feasting, and cleaning.  Many people finish their Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving, while I'm just beginning to figure out where Santa could possibly leave toys in our crazy cluttered house. (For those friends who are done with their Christmas shopping...I may need to rethink our friendship.)

Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. I adore twinkling lights and the kids' excitement. I relish Christmas programs and enjoy holiday music. Nine-year-olds singing Christmas carols in their fancy clothes just makes me weepy. Christmas trees need to be real--and big--and covered with homemade ornaments and sentimentality. I will never understand the "decorator" Christmas tree. Never.
 
I love the holidays, but I love them one holiday at a time...in proper order. For those of you like me, who don't have your shopping done, cards mailed, and baking complete, I'm sharing a gift.

The no fail, perfect gift—that costs $5.

Best of all—you will spend a total of five minutes making this gift. Actually, I spent five minutes making five of these gifts while in my PJs and drinking Diet Coke. To me, that beats battling crowds at the mall any day.

Need a teacher present? Check.
Hostess gift? Got it.
Neighbor thank you? Easy.
Back up present for that friend who shows up unexpectedly with a gift? Ta Da!

The best part of this gift is—it isn't fattening. It can suit men or women. It's inexpensive but doesn't look cheap. It's festive but also appropriate for individuals who don't celebrate Christmas. It has a personal, homemade touch—but is great for those of us who are craft-challenged.

Paperwhites.

It's ridiculously simple. In fact, it's so simple that I'm a little embarrassed to share instructions with you—particularly if you are one of my friends who've received this gift in the past. Still—I know how time-pressed and money-challenged most of us are in December. A gift of paperwhites is easy and inexpensive. Plus really—who doesn't like receiving flowers? (Unless, of course, you have terrible allergies.)

You'll want to start your bulbs over the Thanksgiving holiday weekend, so that they have enough time to grow and flower. Paperwhites are one of the few bulbs that don't require a chilling period prior to bloom, which makes them ideal for forcing.

What you'll need:

Container(s) without drainage holes. I like using clear glass vases or bowls, because the roots add visual interest.

 Pebbles.

Paperwhite bulbs (available online, at nurseries, and also at big box stores.)
  
Water.

Ribbon.

How to Force Paperwhites
Select a container. Add pebbles to the container—approximately two-to-three inches deep.

Position bulbs on top of pebbles, with the pointed side up. Make sure the bottom of the bulb makes contact with the surface of the pebbles.

Add water to the container, just covering the stones. Do not submerse the bulbs in water—only the bottom of the bulbs should touch the water, or the bulbs may rot.

Place container in a sunny window, and check water level every few days. Add water as needed.

As the paperwhites grow, you may find that the stems lean and fall over. Take a piece of decorative ribbon or raffia, and tie it around the stems of the paperwhites to keep them upright. Not only is the ribbon practical, but it adds a festive touch to your gift. 

When the paperwhites bloom, move them out of direct sun to extend blooming time.

Most importantly—don't forget to start a few paperwhites for your holiday decorating. We all need some flowers during the holidays, so spoil yourself, too! You can afford to grow a few for yourself. Here's the cost of the supplies I used:

Glass container: $2.99 (Remember--you can use any container without drainage holes, so be creative. You might save money by finding some gorgeous, interesting containers around the house or at yard sales.)
Bulbs: $4.98 for seven bulbs (I typically use three bulbs per container--so $2.13 per gift)
Stones: $2.99 per bag (enough for eight containers--$0.43 per gift)


Ummm...whoops. My gifts actually total $5.49 each. Which rounds down to $5. Right? Sorry.

To make up for my poor math skills, I'm giving away a set of paperwhite bulbs—six bulbs to the winner. You can either make two gifts or you can grow two containers of paperwhites to decorate your house. Just answer the question below, and you'll be entered for a chance to win the bulbs. Please make sure to include your e-mail so that I can contact you! (Winner will be selected randomly and announced on Friday.)

Here's the question:

What is the best holiday gift you ever received?

Happy indoor growing!

XO ~

Julie

The farmer in the 'burbs.

It's official--I'm a farmer! In a shameless bit of self promotion, I thought I'd share an article about my heirloom plant company, Garden Delights, that's appearing in the most recent issue of Urban Farm magazine. Urban Farm is a great source of information for those of us with soil in our blood--but who have limited acreage. You, too, can play farmer--in your own backyard!

(Just don't tell your neighbors, especially if you plan to add chickens.)

Happy farming!

XO ~

Farmer Julie

Eat Your Flowers.

There's a reason I'm not a food blogger. I lack the required domestic genes. I love food. I love beautiful food. But I can't create beautiful food.

I try. Truly. I drool over slick foodie magazines. I bookmark lovely recipes from my favorite food blogs, like The Pioneer Woman or Orangette. In fact, the vanilla bean scones from The Pioneer Woman's site are what inspired my latest culinary/crafty attempt.

Have you tried these scones? Oh. My. Even I think my attempt at replicating Ree's scones are darn delicious...

 

...if you eat them with your eyes closed. They don't look anything like her lovely, symmetrical scones. Mine are more like vanilla bean blobs...but they are tasty blobs.

People like me should stick to playing in the dirt and leave the prettifying of food to the experts.

But then—I don't always embrace commonsense.

So, in my efforts to make the scones look less horrific, I decided to try a little artsy craft, inspired by my weekend gardening chores.

I planted pansies. Lots and lots of pansies.

I love pansies. They're just so stinking cheerful. Today is one of those dreary fall days when we gardener-types lament the end of summer. It's gray. It's raining. It's nap-inspiring. The banana tree is melting from the frost, it's yellow leaves drooping like the peel of its fruit. The lantana's leaves are crackling-black—or were, until I chopped them off Sunday. The beech trees look splendid, as do the Japanese maples...but I know those colors will be gone soon, too.

But pansies? They're my saviors on these bleak days.

Just look at their adorable little faces. Such personality! Such expression! Such a bright plop of color to fight off my bouts of Seasonal Affective Disorder!

In our zone 7b climate, pansies are the perfect pick-me-up for fall and winter gardens. When I lived in the north, pansies were a spring/summer flower—they wouldn't survive the sub-zero temperatures and drifts of lake-effect snow. But in Upstate SC? They surround our mailbox, line the front walk, huddle in containers on the deck. Violas guard the lettuces and brassicas in the potager.

And, occasionally, they are guinea pigs in my domestic goddess endeavors.

Pansies and violas not only add color to the garden—they are also edible flowers. Well—they're edible IF they are raised organically. Please be careful if you think you can start munching on the flowers at Lowe's or any other big-box store or nursery, because you may well get a mouthful of pesticides or chemical fertilizer. Just a warning--no lawsuits, please.

Pansies and violas have been valued throughout the ages. Since the 4th century B.C., the Greeks cultivated violas for herbal medicinal use. Much later, the viola inspired William Shakespeare's romantic writings.

The pansy, whose ancestor is the viola, was discover some time after the 4th century B.C. in Europe. Thriving in alpine meadows and on rocky ledges, the plant was named a wild pansy. Possibly, a person living in France may have discovered the plant, as the word pansy is traced back to the French word “pensee,” meaning thought or remembrance.

The early wild pansy (now known as Viola tricolor) was different from the viola. The wild pansy grew from the ground on one main stem, then branched above ground. Viola plants branch below ground with many plants sharing the same root system. The wild pansy bloom was larger than the diminutive viola. The popularity of the flower inspired much cross-breeding to produce different colorations and designs. Today, hundreds of varieties of pansies and violas are available in a rainbow of colors.

Pansies and violas continue to be popular with herbalists and confectioneries. From tea to cure coughs to decorative designs on cakes, the viola family is both ornamental and practical.

So. I faced a dozen ugly scones. Half a flat of pansies remained after my weekend planting frenzy. Why not try to hide my ugly scones under beautiful, edible flowers?

Seriously, how hard could it be to make crystalized pansies?

First, I picked a few flowers, washed them, and let them dry.

Aren't they cute?

Next, I added two teaspoons of meringue powder and two tablespoons of water to a shallow bowl, whisking until smooth. (Some recipes call for egg white...but with the recent egg debacle, I chose to use meringue powder to keep everyone healthy.)

Using a pair of tweezers, I attempted to hold the flower on its base and removed the stem with small scissors. Then I gave up on the tweezers.

I next applied a thin layer of the meringue mixture on each side of the flower with a small paintbrush.

(As you can see...the “hold with tweezers” step didn't work so well for me. What can I say? I'm a rule-breaker. And—are those my hands??? Where did those lines come from? Eek!)

The instructions said to "hold the blossom over a bowl or plate, and sprinkle superfine sugar over the entire flower. Repeat on reverse side." I just put the flower on the plate and sprinkled the sugar on it. 

Finally, place the flowers on superfine sugar-covered parchment or waxed paper to dry. PLEASE NOTE: I missed the “sugar coated paper” step and just placed them on parchment...they stick. A lot. Definitely put a layer of sugar on the parchment first. You will be much happier.  

The flowers should be dry in 2 - 4 hours. (Hmmm. It's been about 24 hours, and my flowers are still sticky. Perhaps I went overboard with my meringue painting?) I even turned them so they would dry evenly.

You can, apparently, freeze crystalized flowers for up to a year. I don't think I'll bother.

So, here it is—my ugly but yummy scone decorated with my crystalized pansy.

I don't think the pansy on the scone makes it look any better. It looks like a soggy pansy on a malformed scone. I think I'll stick to putting pansies in salad. Or dirt.

I accept that I'll never make it as a food blogger.

But my yard and containers make me happy. Until spring.

Only 124 days until spring.