Alien Invader

Lifelong city girl finds herself making a report to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation about the invasive spotted lanternfly. 

Well, here's a predicament I didn't expect: I saw these two, separately, on the terrace today.  The first one's pretty, right?  It was stuck in the crevice between the pavers on the terrace this morning, and dead, so I decided it should have dignity in its demise and deposited it into one of the planters. Then, this afternoon, I saw the second guy, and took photos.  I used Google Lens (the most convenient tool for learning the names of unfamiliar plants and animals) to try to identify it.

Turns out the two are the same thing - the spotted lanternfly - native to, among other regions, Vietnam (coincidence? I certainly hope that's all it is).  And it's been causing a bit of havoc in New Jersey - it is the subject of a vehicle inspection and quarantine campaign so that it doesn't spread farther. Under the New York guidelines, I am supposed to destroy it, then report it 😬😮. YIKES!!  So I tried to capture it, and true to the description of its characteristics on the interwebs (it is reported not to fly so much as hop, despite possessing wings), it hopped - over the railing of the parapet - and either dropped thirteen stories, or flew off.

Well, I have now reported my sighting to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. You might note that New York/Manhattan was not one of the counties under an alert on the New York site - till now? 😳😬 (So now I am harboring the body of a dead fugitive, possibly the first one in Manhattan.)

[Oh, by the way: You know how you have friends who, if you committed murder, would help you hide the body?  I AM NOT ONE OF THEM - PLEASE DO NOT CONFESS TO ME.  I will defend your reputation, I will help post bail, I will do everything in my power to get you the best defense attorney available, I will listen to why you did it and hold you and likely cry and torture myself that I could not help you before the deed was done.  But please do not ask me to help you hide the body, and feel horrible for the victim and horrible for you and horrible about me and my limited capabilities for being a friend; I won't be able to and will feel like I need to report the death to the authorities - as I reported the spotted lanternfly.  Just please keep me in the dark till it all comes out.]

Alien "invaders,"  like this spotted lanternfly, are entirely distinguishable from refugees ... like the Afghan translators and civilian workers and other helpful, on the ground allies and friends of the United States during the last two decades of war, to whom we owe a moral obligation to provide a home here, in our country.  But whom we are, shamefully, about to leave in limbo as their country collapses around them to a brutal regime, because we somehow did not get it together to airlift them out over the last seven months.  How, how, could we not have learned from Vietnam?  How?  Beyond, beyond upsetting.  The reports have set off some anxiety in me; even without firsthand memories, and only a life of stories of fleeing as a long ago capital fell, heard as I eavesdropped on adult conversations at an age when I was far too young to contextualize, but old enough to understand fear and sadness and uncertainty and trepidation, a refugee child never outgrows the unease and sense of moving amid danger.  So I have written to all of my elected representatives imploring them to accelerate the evacuation process.  

I checked in with my friend who lived and worked in Afghanistan most of the last decade; he has been furiously writing letters of recommendation in support of special immigrant visas.  He is a good one, a truly good one.  Heartbreaking, for all of his, and others', work to go down the drain in a disorderly departure, for individuals who helped him, and their families, to be left in danger.

Postscript: In the time it took to edit and add links, Kabul fell.  Just this morning I was still urging people to write their elected officials to accelerate the evacuation.  I thought there might be days.  There were barely even hours.  The Good One (formerly "NF") thinks it might not be so bad.  A mutual friend, a woman with whom I once worked as a legal assistant, who married a man who runs an NGO for which the Good One worked for a while, also thinks it might not be so bad.  I very much hope that is the case.  (The Good One volunteered to go back in.  At least with such a rapid fall, I hope there will be no need for him to do so.  It's already bad enough that he is in a COVID hot zone helping the Rohingya.  But he will do what he does - "GO" is an apt acronym for him; that is what he does - he cannot stay put.  The realization I could never have convinced him makes friendship easier; it wasn't me, it was him all along.  Admirable, truly.  But untenable for a relationship.)

[Edited August 15, 2021.]

Tomato Tuesday and Delayed Gratification

Tomato Tuesday reflections on planting seeds in the garden, and in life, and the wait to harvest.

I say to-may-toe, you say to-mah-toe...  Let's definitely NOT call the whole thing off, because I have been waiting and have big plans to devour these little yellow darlings!  Finally have something to show off for Tomato Tuesday!

These little grapey yellow ones were grown from the seeds of a market mixed tomato clamshell, so I don't know the variety.  They look pretty much as I recall seeing/eating them last year, so I am happy they developed true to type; the interwebs say sometimes that doesn't happen with the hybrids that end up in the markets.  Never sure if that is just heirloom hype or actual fact.  The yellows were leaps and bounds ahead of the super sweet red grape ones I grew last year and tried sowing again this year - the yellows probably benefitted from all the compost in their pot, whereas the reds were planted in the same pots as last year, with very minimal amendment, just a bit of compost applied to the top around the plants after they were planted.  (Ah well, learning for next year.)  Always just thrilling that the seeds I started months ago in Spring have actually turned into something edible!

Now, I just need to get back to them, or get them to me... all of the tomatoes are still at the Mother Garden; the yellows have grown tall enough that I am not sure I can transport them back to the city without damaging them.  They may stay at Grandma's till they are done for the season.  The reds probably could come in by car - they are so far behind that they would fit - though they will probably get more sun at Grandma's, and have a better chance to mature and set fruit.  So they, too, may stay at Camp Grandma's.  We shall see; I so want them here so I can pick them at just the peak of ripeness.  But they are better off there.  And I can go out and catch them on weekends.  That's probably for the best.  A little bit longer of a separation and they stand a much better chance of becoming the tomatoes they are meant to be.  So I should  just be patient and wait.

Like my vision for my new, more balanced life: I made some initial moves toward developing and building my side gig.  Spoke to two friends who have connections to my target clients.  All to test drive this idea that's been at the back of my mind for probably more than a decade, when the seed was planted in some volunteer work.  So this Summer into Autumn will be the dry run phase - free services in exchange for feedback.  We'll see whether any of it bears fruit, and after that, whether I can actually build the life I want with this as one of the building blocks.

Planning, work, delayed gratification ... all  hallmarks of maturity - the tomatoes', and mine.  Patience.

[Edited August 11, 2021.]

Bobbitted Blossoms, Battered (and Fried)

Aubrey (suspected cousin of Audrey from "Little Shop of Horrors"), the mystery volunteer squash plant of gargantuan proportions that arose from the compost top layer dumped into the largest planter during the mandated rooftop exile, the plant that strangled its tomato planter mates with its climbing tendrils, that collapsed of its own weight over the side of the planter, crushing and bending the tomatoes as it fell, nonetheless nurtures and feeds me, even without mature squash. 

Since I don't actually want to grow squash (my guess so far, from the single female blossom with its little immature ovary, is that we are expecting a little pumpkin) and am just letting Aubrey be, to live out a full and productive life this season with the one squash that seems to be forming, a squash blossom meal, for squashy birth control as much as seasonality of ingredients, was in order. And since I am (somewhat guilt-strickenly) giving myself permission not to work on my day off, today was the day for new ingredient research and experimentation (and a timely blog post!).

First off, the Bobbitting - the interwebs say the stamen is not edible; only the flower is. A shame, because as the stamens were plucked, they had a nice, fresh, vegetally juicy aroma.

Felt a little funny about processing, but 🤷🏻‍♀️. Most of my blossoms were past prime, hard to pry open, the petals crepey and thin and delicate and stuck together, full of pollen. 

Note to self: prime harvest time is just as they first open. I only had one in that stage; it was larger and fleshier and turgid and pre-pollen, perfect for meal prep. The rest, even the one that was in full bloom in the morning, were withered and unyielding and messily yellow-staining. Most of the recipes call for stuffing the blossoms; I didn't bother. It's my day off and that would have been too much effort for likely failure; they just looked like they would tear if I tried to peel them open yet again.

So I just lightly battered (corn starch, salt, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper) and fried and finished with a sprinkling of sea salt while hot, and they were delish! Next time, maybe I will try with seltzer for an even lighter batter. And batter in one batch and fry all of them together while the oil is still hot and plentiful (this go around, in mini batches, some of the batter steamed and looked uncooked, rather than golden crisp). 

And I quite liked my base accompaniment pilaf of rice/quinoa (yes, left over from yesterday) with plentiful spinach and scallion, seasoned with salt and lemon pepper, too. That's another repeater.

This Jardin-centric meal has me counting how many more blossoms Aubrey has budding, and wondering whether enough can come in simultaneously for a repeat meal. Or, the blossoms are supposed to keep up to a week refrigerated; maybe I will try harvesting at peak and storing until the yield is suffucient. And supplementing with young stems - I did one, and it was lovely, not spiny at all.

Salivating for Aubrey's next yield....