How To Be A Domestic Goddess*

(*with apologies to Nigella Lawson)

I've come over all Martha Stewart this weekend. Weird.

Yesterday morning, I dragged my carcass out of bed at quarter to seven, and hitched a ride down to the Farmers' Market. I keep meaning to go more often, but never seem to get around to it - the early hours always put me off. The hardcore marketgoers are often there from half-six, queuing for the stalls to open at seven, and anything good or special is generally sold out by eight.

Anyway, this being harvest time, I wanted to get some local fruit and veg. It really annoys me that we live not two hours from the Annapolis Valley - a major agricultural area - and yet when you go into the grocery store, all the produce is from Ontario and California. There must be at least a dozen Valley farm stands at the market. While some are organic (which I don't usually bother with - am faintly suspicious of the claims of the organic food movement), all of the stuff for sale is pesticide-free, so that's good. I got myself some salad greens, Clapp pears and Victoria plums, and resolved to start going at least once a month during the growing season. Though I may go back next weekend to order a turkey for Thanksgiving.

I was home again by half-nine, and spent the rest of the morning doing housework. In the afternoon I blanched and skinned all the tomatoes that have ripened in the past week, then packed them in mason jars and put them in the deep freeze. Then I went outside to cut some flowers. There were beautiful bouquets of dahlias for sale at the market stalls that morning, which I nearly bought before remembering that I had a garden full of dahlias back home. So I cut some of them, along with some pansies:



And on the agenda for today? Well, we took delivery of a bunch of stuff from Ikea last weekend - end tables, bedside tables, chests of drawers, etc. And in typical Ikea fashion, almost all of it is untreated pine. So I'm going to do a little sanding and varnishing this afternoon. A. has borrowed an electric sander from his dad, which I'm going to have a go with. Hoping I don't injure myself.

Oh, and I just took this homely, but delicious little beaut out of the oven. Strawberry-rhubarb, in case you're wondering:


See? I told you I'm having a total Martha weekend.