Where There's Smoke...

This week has been all about the smoke. Monday the 21st began with a large plume that seemed close to home, only to find it was about 1500 feet from our backyard.We'd have taken pictures, but hosing down the house and shoving prized possessions in the cars took precedence. The winds were at about 20 mph that day, and we were asked to evacuate. Residents were allowed home around 8:00 pm. We smelled as if we had been on the firelines ourselves, and the neighborhood smelled like a wet campfire. Shaky, but relieved, we were definitely feeling blessed with the best case scenario. Unpacking your favorite things never felt so good.
Thursday brought us the smoke from Oakridge and Douglas County. The air quality can only be described as poor.

The garden is in its 20th week. The broccoli is beginning to mature.

It looks like I will get exactly two ears of baby cornichons. Watching their frousy little silky heads has been fulfilling enough.

When I was buying the happy chickens from the chicken people at Rogue Valley Brambles farm, where the chickens eat "mostly bugs and grass", I was asked if I would like a complimentary bag of chicken feet with my purchase. (They had quite a few). I responded with my typical culinary enthusiasm. "Of course! I'll make stock." It seems I was a little nonchalant about this. Somehow the bag of chicken feet was much less disconcerting than they were bubbling away on the stove.

Ranger has been feeling the approach of fall most acutely, he's not sure why his sunny spots just aren't as warm as they used to be.

"Try to remember the kind of September..."

The light is changing so quickly. Thoughts of canning change to ideas about sewing. Afternoon naps sound cozier. It's easier to let yourself be distracted by the current good read.

We have another burst of warm weather on the way. We'll make sure we grill and enjoy it. Hopefully it will help those reluctant green tomatoes ripen. We unearthed the American Harvest food dehydrator, it has been purring away on the counter making raisins out of our over-abundance of cherry tomatoes.

We made an bang-up Virgo dinner with friends this week. We were too modest to take pictures of the food while we had company, but the menu was a killer.

Roasted figs stuffed with black pepper goat cheese, drizzled with a balsamic reduction for an appetizer. For dinner, a saute of golden beets and haricot verts, green herbed risotto, roasted rosemary and garlic pork chops with an onion marmaletta on top. Mmmm....

The garden is in it's 18th week. I love the subtle changes. The corn's going to try. It's starting to tassle. The eggplant is just about done. Little lettuces are springing up from seed here and there. Kombucha squash got it's second wind and is insuring we'll be blessing my garden neighbors with squash gifts soon.

Of Naps and Omlettes

A visit to the garden on a cool Sunday morning.


I was greeted by little brussel sprouts enjoying the morning chill.




The view from the garden...

We braved the holiday crowds for a rock shrimp and bacon omlette at Morning Glory, and were rewarded with a table for two. The people who had been waiting an hour looked on with envy. We added a mimosa, a bloody mary, and the Sunday paper to make a perfect morning.
We ventured home for naps and some play with Ranger.





He was ready.

Late August Happies...

In the blur of everything that must be done...we're finding the little happies.

Changing light on the kite-shaped garden.

The dahlias in the squash.

The funny doe with the silly fawns that are literally milking her dry.

The dahlias from the growers market, picked out with our parents, that look like fireworks in a vase.
Texts and phone calls from Sirena.
The dried apples the neighbor shared for watering her garden...