Woohoo for our new president-elect! Also, for the election being over. Mainly for the uncertainty being over, actually. I’m so excited to have a president I won’t be ashamed of.

Meanwhile, my life is unaffected except that we’re not talking to Eric’s mom for a couple of days because she’s devoutly anti-Obama and is nursing her disappointment loudly. While Eric was at her house finding this out, I decided that while I was getting some *cough* late seed trades out the door (sorry, Jason and Pam! The election ate my brain!) I ought to put away the last of the seeds, since they’d been swept aside for party preparations and were just cluttering up the pantry.

What’s left: lemon balm, hyssop, lemon basil, morning glories (mostly Grandpa Ott, I believe, courtesy of a trade with Colleen last year), scarlet flax, coriander, fernleaf dill, flat-leaf parsley, and potato. These were the fruits that didn’t seem as ripe when I first picked them, so I let them sit. Tonight they were pleasantly squishy and wrinkly, so I cut one open to start squeezing out the seeds.

A very familiar fragrance tickled my nose. Strawberry. These aged potato berries smelled exactly like ripe strawberries. Eric agreed when I wafted one under his nose. I even tasted one–just a touch of the tongue–and it tastes like a tart strawberry, the way unripe kiwi does. Strawberry! This botanical world, it just keeps on surprising me.

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