Fun with search terms, Flowery Prose edition.

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I love the WordPress feature that keeps track of the search engine terms that have led readers to our blogs. Some of them are obvious and you can definitely pinpoint the exact entries you’ve written that came up in the search (and hopefully assisted someone with their query)…but others are just plain entertaining!  I have a habit of plugging in as many words as possible into search engines to narrow down the possible hits, so I can only imagine what someone on the receiving end might think of the weird stuff I come up with.

Here are a few of the search terms that have been logged on Flowery Prose within the past year, the ones that got me giggling the most. I really hope something I’ve posted helped these folks out, as well, but I’m not entirely convinced of that….

saskatoon berry alcohol shot

Yes, please.

hula hooping sitting on bed

I’m not that flexible…or creative. I might somehow throw out a hip.

what if I eat a spittle bug

No biggie, it’s three percent of your daily recommended intake of protein.  And the spittle gives it a smooth mouthfeel.

prose soup

Is that like Alphagetti noodles?  Do you add veggies?  I might want that recipe.

prose on parenting

*looks to see if anyone has dropped off any kids at my house and left them there without my knowledge*

nose ill

I think this was supposed to be “Nose Hill,” one of my favourite places to walk in Calgary.  I can’t say I’ve ever written a post about “nose ills,” but if there’s a call for it, I can definitely make something up oblige.

covering raised veggie bads (sic) at night

I’m glad I’m not the only one who had veggie bads this year – I can’t believe only three of my carrot seeds germinated out of an ENTIRE package.  Maybe I would have had more success had I covered them at night.  Things to note for next year.

same look like winter cress but not

Occasionally my hair gets this way before I put the anti-frizz cream in.

speak about flower

Ask my hubby; I do, ad nauseum.  This may be a search term I’m actually qualified to write about.  If not qualified, I can certainly babble endlessly about it.  I have also been known to expound at length about flour, as well, but that’s another story….

Check your search terms: do you have any silly or unusual ones you’d like to share?  

Clipart credit.

 

Ptarmigan Cirque hike.

Well, I still haven’t finished unpacking from our move and I’ve been filling in a ton of hours for all of my vacationing co-workers on top of my regular shifts (which is why the unpacking isn’t progressing)…but some much-longed-for hiking in the mountains is finally happening this summer!  My brother and my hubby and I recently did a short trek to Ptarmigan Cirque, in Kananaskis Country.  My hubby and I had been up there twice before, and I am always awed by the scenery.  This go-around, the water pools were dried up from the heat and the waterfall was a bit on the skinny side; we also missed the peak wildflower bloom, but the place simply cannot ever disappoint.  This is an immensely rewarding short hike for families and anyone who doesn’t want to tackle a difficult trek.  The challenging part is completed first thing: you’re in the Highwood Pass*, so you start out at an elevation of 2,206 metres (7,239 feet) and then climb up – very quickly, pretty much all in the first kilometre – to 2,414 metres (7,923 feet).  It’s a bit hard to breathe up there, plus there’s all that exercise you’re doing…

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…and then you get to see views like this.  Breathtaking, indeed!

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One of my favourite places in the Rockies! The diversity of plant life up there is incredible….

*Which has the distinction of being “the highest paved pass in Canada.” Meaning, there is a really good road up there, a highway that is open to traffic only six months of the year, to protect critical wildlife habitat. The rest of the time, we can snowshoe and ski on sections of it (see here and here).

 

Ten reasons pumpkins are awesome.

(Excerpts of this piece were originally intended for another project but I thought it would be fun to share this today…especially as pumpkin pie is going to be a feature of so many Thanksgiving meals south of the border).  🍗 🍰🍷

More than just the ubiquitous feature of seasonal hot beverages and desserts, or decorations set out to greet trick-or-treaters and serve as the centerpiece on a bountiful Thanksgiving table, pumpkins are the fascinating subjects of myth, history, science…and sport. Whether you intend to eat, drink, grow, or hurl them, this list of pumpkin facts is guaranteed to help you get your festive groove on.

  1. One word: pie.

The heaviest pumpkin in the world was grown in Switzerland in 2014. It weighed 2,323 pounds (1,053 kilograms). The American record for heaviest pumpkin was set in 2015 by Gene McMullen, of Illinois. His massive prize-winner weighed 2,145 pounds (973 kilograms).

If you are looking to grow your own giant pumpkins, be prepared to supply them with plenty of cow manure, water, and sunlight. A goodly amount of labor is necessary to keep the vines properly pruned so that most of the energy of the plants are directed to fruit production – and so that the vines do not snap as the pumpkin’s girth increases. It is not unusual for pumpkins of the largest varieties to add an astonishing two inches (five centimeters) to their circumference every night.

The largest pumpkin pie was baked in 2010 in New Bremen, Ohio. It weighed 3,699 pounds (1,677 kilograms) and was 20 feet (6 meters) in diameter. There is no word on whether or not the world’s largest batch of whipped cream record was broken at the same time.

  1. They are mysterious.

Pumpkin, squash, gourd – what is the difference? It is all relative, really. All of these plants are part of the family Cucurbitaceae, which contains over 100 genera and 700 species (including melons). Botanists try to distinguish them all by categorizing characteristics such as leaves, seeds, and fruit, as well as their use. Most pumpkins are identifiable by their rounded, ribbed, hard skins – but then again, so are some gourds. And we should not refer to pumpkins as vegetables – they are, botanically, berries.

  1. You can hurl them with slingshots, trebuchets, or cannons.

If smashing pumpkins seems like fun (of course it does!), then why not go the whole hog and build a pumpkin cannon? Competitive pumpkin chucking (punkin chunkin) events are held annually all over the United States. The longest pumpkin chuck on record took place in Moab, Utah, in September 2010: the cucurbit flew 5,545.43 feet (1,690.24 meters) from a pneumatic cannon dubbed “Big 10 Inch.” Pumpkins-to-be-chucked must have thick enough skins to be able to handle the G-forces of the launch without breaking in mid-air, which would result in a disqualification.

  1. They come in many colors.

Do you think all pumpkins have orange rinds? Definitely not! While red pumpkins are not much of a stretch, ghostly white varieties such as ‘Casper’ and ‘Lumina’ are the new superstars of designer Hallowe’en centerpieces. The appropriately-monikered ‘Baby Boo’ is the tiniest of the white bunch, with a mere three-inch (7.6 centimeter) diameter. There are even blue pumpkins, of which the Australian-bred ‘Jarrahdale’ and the lightly speckled ‘Blue Moon’ are probably the most common. Orange-skinned pumpkins may have more beta carotene and other orange pigments than those sporting more exotic hues, but nearly all pumpkins, regardless of their rind color, have orange flesh.

  1. They are cooler than turnips.

The tradition of carving a pumpkin into a Jack o-Lantern for Hallowe’en has murky origins in Irish legend: a man named Stingy Jack twice tricked the devil and was not allowed into heaven or hell after his death. Forced to roam in perpetual night, Jack carried before him a lantern made of a carved turnip, its innards removed and replaced with a lump of burning coal. During the festival of Samhain, which marks the end of the harvest season and the entrance into the dark winter months, celebrants often carried lighted turnips, beets, and even potatoes. The practice was later adopted for Hallowe’en. When Irish and Scottish settlers arrived in North America, they found that pumpkins were a plentiful, native crop long grown by indigenous peoples. It was also obvious pumpkins were far better candidates for carving than turnips. It is only recently that pumpkin decorating has become popular in Europe.

  1. Canned pumpkin means more pie.

The sweet and tasty glop that we buy in the store is not actually the puréed flesh of the same cultivars of aesthetically-pleasing pumpkins we usually cut into Jack o-Lanterns. Pumpkin varieties that are slightly less pretty, but far more creamy and delicious (such as ‘Dickinson’), are usually used for processed pumpkin products. Eighty percent of all pumpkins in the United States are grown in the state of Illinois – most near the village of Morton, where 100,000 tons (90,718 tonnes) of pumpkins are processed annually. Ninety-five percent of all those pumpkins end up in a can.

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  1. There are lots of them.

While the United States grows a serious wagon-load of pumpkins – nearly all them sold during the month of October – China is actually the largest producer of pumpkins in the world. In 2015, China grew nearly 7,716,179 metric tons (7 million metric tonnes) of pumpkins and other squash, mostly for domestic consumption. The world’s largest exporter of pumpkins and other squash is Spain, which supplies most of Europe with cucurbits. Unsurprisingly, the United States imports the most pumpkins on the planet, primarily from Mexico. Much of this production is for processed (canned) pumpkin products.

  1. Mmmmm…beer.

Modern brewmasters are not merely jumping onto a seasonal bandwagon: pumpkin beer has a long history in the United States. In the 17th century, when sugar and malt were not easy commodities to attain, pumpkins were plentiful substitutes and pressed into service for beer-making. By the mid-1800’s, malt was readily accessible but pumpkin remained a staple of quality brews.

  1. They go well with cinnamon.

Since when did the flavor and scent of a combination of cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and ginger come to represent the single ingredient “pumpkin” in cooking and baking, fragrances, home décor items, and those famous lattes? If you have ever eaten a piece of cooked pumpkin, you will notice it is pretty bland, and benefits from the addition of other ingredients to make it more pleasing to the palate. In the 1950’s, commercial spice companies recognized the marketing potential of premixing the home baker’s pumpkin pie spices for convenience – and the rest is history. Nowadays we sometimes forget that pumpkin does not actually contain any cinnamon.

1.They have many edible parts.

Each pumpkin contains an average of 500 seeds.This depends, of course, on the size and variety of pumpkin. Most pumpkins take between 95 and 120 days to produce seeds, so do not waste them – eat them! (Here’s a good recipe). Pumpkin flowers are also edible, but pick them sparingly if you want to harvest pumpkins later on.

Garden horror.

Procrastination is totally a good thing.  You always have something to do tomorrow, plus you have nothing to do today.

                             ~Some random Internet meme I found while procrastinating on social media.  

Shhh….don’t tell anyone…I’m supposed to be working on an article due in a couple of days.

But I’m thinking about Garden Horror instead.  (See yesterday’s post if you are blinking at the screen and thinking I’ve finally totally lost it).

So, ahem, I thought of a few titles for as-yet-unwritten Garden Horror novels (which also ties into yesterday’s post – please do go check it out if you haven’t already).  Of course, these may sound eerily (see what I did there?) familiar to some of you:

The Slug Also Rises

Apocalypse Bough

Close Encounters of the Larval Kind 

The Drawing of the Tree 

The Turn of the Yew

The Tell-Tale Bark

The Call of Kudzu 

Okay, I must be getting back to work…the ball’s in your court.  What Garden Horror titles can you add to my list?  Make me laugh – the article I’m at this very moment feverishly churning out at a breathtaking rate of speed is about plant propagation, and we all know how very unfunny that topic is.  

Title.

A couple of weeks ago an editor e-mailed me a response to a piece I had submitted, of which the gist was: I like what you’re doing here, but your title doesn’t quite fit the situation you describe in your work. Either change the situation or change the title – it’s up to you.  Of course, I took the easier (but possibly more stressful) route and spent a day and a half agonizing over potential new titles, one of which was ultimately affixed to the published work.

Coming up with suitable titles is probably one of the most difficult parts of writing for me. If I’m writing an article – about composting, perhaps, or dividing perennials or buying garden tools – I tend to simply give a really brief statement about where I’m headed with the content. So far, I haven’t had to apply the heavy-handed sass that might yield that special click bait edge. “10 Deadly Secrets Your Lawnmower is Harbouring” isn’t really the sort of thing I write.  Yet.  These are lean times.

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I usually fare better when it comes to fiction, because the story tells me what it wants to be called (yeah, that doesn’t sound quite right now that I read that back but we’ll go with it).  Because I often write humour, my titles have contained puns (“Johnny Cache Steps Out”), snippets of clichéd sayings (“…If You Were the Last Man on Earth”), or slang (“Sheeple”). Still, the titles are usually coughed up at the end, when I’ve gotten the text down.  The only time it can get a bit shaky is when you have to scramble to meet a deadline and your story is ambiguous with its choice.  You don’t want your title to come across reading like a label hastily slapped on a shipping container (well, I guess it depends on the story).

Blog posts are even worse.  Take today’s title, for example.  It’s short and to the point, and definitely conveys what the writer wants it to, but it’s lacking a certain grittiness that would just nudge it over the top.  I’d chew on it a little bit more, but I’m suddenly inspired to write some horror flash fic about lawnmowers….  (Garden horror – that could seriously be a sub-genre, am I right?).

Are titles a struggle for you?

Clipart credit.

Neither flowery nor prose-y. Aiming for “cute.”

Something has been bothering me lately. I think it could be argued that my blog lacks a certain critical “cuteness factor.”

*shamelessly inserts photo of fuzzy, adorable baby duckling*

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I believe I have that taken care of now….   😉

Fun and interesting facts about rhubarb.

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The rhubarb in the community garden is absolutely monstrous this year – it shot up so quickly I barely had time to blink during the transition between fat sprouts to gargantuan wide leaves and thick, harvest-ready stalks.  I’m dreaming about the rhubarb cake I am going to bake….

Rhubarb gardeners will know most of these fun facts, but if you’re new to growing (or eating!) it, you might enjoy this little list of rhubarb trivia:

  • Rhubarb is in the Polygonaceae family, which includes buckwheat and sorrel.
  • Rhubarb’s binomial name is Rheum rhabarbarum – the specific epithet is from the Latin and means “root of the barbarians.”
  • Rhubarb leaves are poisonous, chock full of more oxalic acid than humans and animals may safely consume.  Small amounts of oxalic acid are found in the stalks, which we eat – the acidity gives rhubarb its “tang.”  (You’ll find small amounts of oxalic acid present in sorrel and spinach, as well).
  • Contrary to popular belief, even though rhubarb leaves are poisonous, they actually can be composted.  The acids in them will break down like any other natural chemical found in plants and will not cause the compost to become toxic.  Just make sure you chop those gigantic leaves up so that they’re easier for your composter to break down quickly.
  • The part of rhubarb that we eat is the petiole of the leaf.
  • Rhubarb is a perennial. And it is supremely tough and cold-hardy, so you usually have to do something really, really horrific to kill it once it becomes established.  Like drive over it with a truck.  Or set it on fire.  And it may even survive those things.
  • Rhubarb is botanically a vegetable, but we treat it like a fruit in cooking and often eat it in desserts.  In 1947, the United States gave it the legal designation as a “fruit” to avoid the high tariffs imposed on imported vegetables. (It was cheaper at the time to bring fruits into the country).
  • You’ll sometimes hear rhubarb referred to as the “pie plant.”  If you’ve ever eaten rhubarb pie (or even better, strawberry rhubarb pie), it’s not difficult to be a supporter of this nickname.
  • If your rhubarb stalks are green, they’re not underripe or something.  Some cultivars have greener stalks than others.  The red colour is due to the presence of anthocyanins, the same chemicals that make the leaves of some deciduous trees turn red in the autumn.
  • Rhubarb root has been used as a laxative in Chinese medicine for thousands of years.
  • Rhubarb reached Europe via the Silk Road in the 14th century.  The plants were brought to North America by European settlers in the early 1800’s.
  • If you like to dye textiles with natural plant-based dyes, rhubarb leaves make a good mordant (just be really careful while handling them!).  The roots will produce a brown dye.
  • In the United Kingdom, it is common to force an early rhubarb crop under pots in January and February.  A second crop is planted outdoors for later harvest.
  • Store harvested rhubarb stalks in the fridge and use them up as soon as you can.  Rhubarb freezes well so that’s an option if you have a huge harvest.
  • Do not harvest rhubarb in the heat, as the stalks will quickly wilt.
  • Speaking of harvesting rhubarb – pull or cut?  Always pull!  If you cut the stalks, you might encourage rot.  And never, ever, take more than half of the stalks of the plant at a time.
  • If your rhubarb is damaged by a late spring frost, you can remove most of the stalks (leave at least 3 to 5 on the plant) and allow the plant to regrow – it should produce another crop shortly.  Don’t eat the frozen stalks.
  • Rhubarb has really pretty, dramatic flowers – and as long as you don’t allow them to set seed, you can enjoy the flowers for a very brief time.  You can keep harvesting the rhubarb stalks while the plant flowers – the quality of the produce does not suffer.  If the plants set seed, however, the energy that would be devoted to the creation of delicious stalks is then diverted to the seeds, which you don’t want.  You’ll end up with smaller stalks as a result.   So if you want flowers AND yummy stalks, watch carefully to remove the blooms at just the right time.
  • The word “rhubarb” may also refer to a loud dispute; in the 1940’s, it was commonly used as a descriptor of the on- and off-field shenanigans of fans and players at raucous baseball games.  In 1930’s theatre, the repetition of the word “rhubarb” by stage actors was used to simulate background conversation.

What are your favourite rhubarb recipes?  (Please go ahead and post links – I’m always on the hunt for more!).