Sleepy! Call it jet lag, call it Isis, I'm nearly out as I type this. A late August day, a busy with work day, a pretty day -- all that, wrapped in a blanket of intense heat as I watch the thermometer exceed the mid nineties for the first time this summer.
I've unpacked, and ran through the washing machine things that got a Banyuls vinegar bath. No, I did not break my sweet little container of precious vinegar, but sometime in that last flight, the cork popped open and so sprinkling a delicious vinegar from the Languedoc over the garden tomatoes was not meant to be.
A few flower (and berry) photos from before breakfast:
Then breakfast, which is especially wonderful as Ed is back from up north. Beard trim is in the cards, but for now, it is wonderful to be starting the morning eating garden berries together and talking about how to proceed with farmette projects.
More flowers. Fiery read, dry in places, but this is the season for that progression toward dormancy and truthfully -- it has its own charm: I don't worry anymore about display, I think only about helping the sweet things along until the wake up moment comes next year when it will all begin again.
I work on the porch even though it is hot hot hot. A little fan moves the air around and that's quite enough relief for me. I love the outdoors too much to give up on it merely because a small heat wave is passing through.
In the afternoon, I visit Goldie, the cat my daughter and her husband took in earlier this summer.
She has a new resting place -- their dining room table and she reminds me in this way of Isis, who, last night, sat with us out on the porch, adoring the new table cloth, digging his nails in, as I shook my head and told him -- Isis, go back and ruin the couch instead. This is too fresh and therefore precious still!
Goldie, on the other hand, just stretches out her full body and purrs.
Back at the farmette, we are having a ridiculously large harvest again. Here, you see about 1/4 of the tomatoes picked just today.I'll spare you the pile of cucumbers.
We also pick our first corn ever and though I heard that some insist that for perfect corn, you should carry the pot of boiling water to the stalk so that you can cook it before it's even picked, we're not that far gone. We pluck two ears, split them in half (so that we can each taste both varieties) and there you have the perfect end of summer meal -- only the salmon on the plate is not farmette grown.
Eyes closing now, almost there, almost almost! If I click "publish" I can stop fighting the great desire simply to sleep. Publish!
I've unpacked, and ran through the washing machine things that got a Banyuls vinegar bath. No, I did not break my sweet little container of precious vinegar, but sometime in that last flight, the cork popped open and so sprinkling a delicious vinegar from the Languedoc over the garden tomatoes was not meant to be.
A few flower (and berry) photos from before breakfast:
Then breakfast, which is especially wonderful as Ed is back from up north. Beard trim is in the cards, but for now, it is wonderful to be starting the morning eating garden berries together and talking about how to proceed with farmette projects.
More flowers. Fiery read, dry in places, but this is the season for that progression toward dormancy and truthfully -- it has its own charm: I don't worry anymore about display, I think only about helping the sweet things along until the wake up moment comes next year when it will all begin again.
I work on the porch even though it is hot hot hot. A little fan moves the air around and that's quite enough relief for me. I love the outdoors too much to give up on it merely because a small heat wave is passing through.
In the afternoon, I visit Goldie, the cat my daughter and her husband took in earlier this summer.
She has a new resting place -- their dining room table and she reminds me in this way of Isis, who, last night, sat with us out on the porch, adoring the new table cloth, digging his nails in, as I shook my head and told him -- Isis, go back and ruin the couch instead. This is too fresh and therefore precious still!
Goldie, on the other hand, just stretches out her full body and purrs.
Back at the farmette, we are having a ridiculously large harvest again. Here, you see about 1/4 of the tomatoes picked just today.I'll spare you the pile of cucumbers.
We also pick our first corn ever and though I heard that some insist that for perfect corn, you should carry the pot of boiling water to the stalk so that you can cook it before it's even picked, we're not that far gone. We pluck two ears, split them in half (so that we can each taste both varieties) and there you have the perfect end of summer meal -- only the salmon on the plate is not farmette grown.
Eyes closing now, almost there, almost almost! If I click "publish" I can stop fighting the great desire simply to sleep. Publish!
