The last of the brussel sprouts.
No, it is not a shaleighly. Though it could be-with my irish roots. It is the stalk of the last of my brussel sprouts. I had a decent season this year. They did get over 3 feet tall. But I know a guy locally that gets them to grow 5 feet tall. They grow so slow here in the Sonoran desert that the heat overtakes them before they get tall enough. That tells me that I need to create more shade in my garden.
I had enough planted though that I have lots of baggies in the freezer. I have also fed the leaves to the chickens and baby goat. Bambi does not get any because they make her milk taste yucky. Ask me how I know.
I love brussel sprouts. Steve does not. He is getting better about eating them though. Come to think of it, he is getting better at eating a lot of vegetables.
I think that he gets a kick of how excited I get when I harvest something and serve it. He does not want to hurt my feelings. But my evil plan is that eventually he will learn to love the vegetables as much as I do. Well, maybe almost.