Pages

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Fosters, Flutes and Frost

You know when you say yes, then some days go by and certain information makes its way into the dark crevices of your cranium and then....WHAM!?  No?  Some days ago, I got an email from Peanut Butter's foster parents (who I secretly think wish they had never given him up - too bad ... ) asking if there was any way I could look after their current foster for a weekend.  Of course.  I can certainly relate to wanting to get away for the weekend... 


Because we live so far from each other, it was decided that I would toss the dogs in the car after work on Thursday and drive to meet them halfway at a popular dog-rescue-meet-and-greet area.  Sounded great at the time but I failed to realize a) it now gets pitch dark by 7 and b) I loathe driving in the dark.  They failed to realized that the favorite spot was not lit.  After an hour's hair-raising drive, we finally made it to the abyss meeting spot.  They pulled in and we tried our best to light the area with our headlights.  How did it go?  There were four dogs involved; Peanut Butter thought he was going home with them; Lovey, tail firmly cemented to her tummy, was having nothing doing with this new dog, the dark and strange people all in the dark; we were all afraid someone would call the police.  I finally just said the heck with it, put Lovey and Peanut Butter (his foster mother, still trying to get one last cuddle in) in the back seat and put Rusty Jones in the front.  Rusty, poor lad, thought it was the end of the world.  I drove back with Rusty trying to get onto my lap (he's Lovey's size) and everyone else exhausted.  By the time we pulled in, it was 10P and they had not eaten.  Soooo, in we went, with Lovey still giving Rusty The Lip every once in a while.  I got their dinners together and then there was calm.  We took a little time to peruse the chicken yard in the dark, then came inside to collapse.  I had had the foresight to take Friday off, which was a very good thing, as I think I got four hours of sleep.  Everyone settled down and Rusty was actually playing with Lovey and there was much kissing, on and off all day.  I renamed him Velcro and got almost nothing done.
Are you now my mommy?

What's going on over there?

The dark lump is PB...

This is more like it!
Saturday, however, I escaped and met my sister at The Clark in Williamstown, MA, for a telecast of Mozart's The Magic Flute.  OMG!  It was quite wonderful, especially compared to the bizarre rendition of Obsession we had witnessed the previous week.  The costumes, staging and talent were spectacular and I developed a major crush on the baritone.  It was a beautiful autumn day.


NOT the baritone.  He had dimples...
View from the museum parking lot.
Luckily, Rusty's foster parents swung by on their way home Sunday, so I didn't have to repeat the night-time drive.  He was thrilled to see them - having believed he had been abandoned...again.  The four of us (Slimbo ventured out after he was sure the monster was gone) stumbled to our positions (Peanut Butter is back by my side) and made it an early night.


Monday night brought freezing temps.  I knew it was coming but had very little time to spare over the weekend to get things battened down.  I did manage to empty the duck pool and drag in the Meyers Lemon tree - without putting my back out - and repot the geraniums for their indoor hiatus.  Sunday was a very windy, warm day - the precursor to the cold front, thundering toward us.  It brought some rain, so I left the geraniums outside for a free watering.  Yesterday I brought them in, along with the fig tree, and I had all good intentions to cut my herbs when I got home from work.  Instead, I spent ONE HOUR inching through traffic caused when some nimrod rammed into the back of another car in one of two lanes.  I am sure he/she was texting something of incredible importance - the state of their adenoids, perhaps?  I was sure to put the voodoo curse on them as I drove by at one mile an hour.  By the time I pulled into the driveway, it was too dark to clip herbs.  I did a very fast round of evening chores and then put my headlamp on and covered the oregano and marjoram and clipped a few sprigs of pineapple sage.  Everything else was on its own.
Beautiful flowering pineapple sage
I have not had a chance to reconnoiter the garden since the freeze.  I doubt if anything survived except for the kale - that survives almost anything!

Thursday, October 12, 2017

The hustle has officially left my bustle.

This is the fifth blog post I've started - the others were deep-sixed, so I'm hoping that this makes it through my filter of mass destruction.  A series of things have dropped me into a deep blue funk and I need to get out of it.  The biggest disappointment was realizing that I would not be able to take a short vacation I had planned (and needed) for quite some time.  I hadn't realized how much I had counted on it until I couldn't go.  I then slipped into that quagmire of feeling that the lifestyle I love so much had become a millstone around my neck.  THEN I realized that that was ridiculous.  I needed to change my thinking.


So I have.  Or at least I am working on it.  As these things tend to go, once the negative energy is radiating out into the Universe, it tends to attract like energy.  Case in point:  I have been spending hours and hours in the company of The Journal of Commerce Import Bulletins.




You see that white piece of paper?  That's as far as I had gotten after three days.  Shoot me.  Each over-sized tome is classified as "fragile", so I have to very gingerly leaf through months' worth of shipping manifest lists until I find the ones I'm looking for, then equally as gingerly scan it without damaging the yellowed pages.  An equally distressing thought is that these "fragile" documents were printed when I was 15!  I feel like a relic...


There are some upsides - I am in a very peaceful environment for hours:
Research floor of the State
Library
I am getting plenty of exercise - the round trip is just under three miles and has to be walked.  And there is lots of cultcha to be absorbed.
One example - it's YUGE!
Our state capitol is a formidable and beautiful edifice, another example of millions of dollars invested in the glory of government.  The most direct route from my office to the State Library is via the underground concourse.  Access is gained to the concourse by passing through two metal detectors, going through the Capitol, and then through the concourse - a long corridor that passes under a road or two.  Both sides of the concourse are populated with fast food restaurants and with items from Mr. Rockefeller's massive Modern Art collection.  To which no one pays any attention.  I am always amazed that these works are hung in a closed area that reeks of McDonald fumes, diesel fumes from the bus garage and, until recently, cigarette smoke.  Geezlouise.  Anyhoo, one walks through the concourse, then down a flight of steps - under another road - then through a series of escalators and elevators that haven't been updated since Eisenhower was in office.  Finally, one emerges into the upper/inner sanctum of all things NYS history.  I make this trip twice a day - I do have my real job, after all.  Scanning these documents has posed a real challenge.  The pages are oversized and are printed (in tiny print) on the aforementioned yellowing, fragile paper.  You cannot flip the thing over and copy it.  The overhead scanners are not capable of scanning the whole page.  I finally came up with a free app on my iPhone that scans and turns the scan into either a jpeg (photo) or pdf (copy) file.  These I email to my office address and then send along to another office.  It is hair-raisingly tedious work.  I am through two and a half years, with two and a half to go.  Geewillikers.


It's nice to come home to this:

Modeling his lovely sweater, gifted to him
by his distant cousin in the Northwest, Mandy.
Of course, the weather is in no way suitable for sweaters, having not dipped below 75 degrees for days.  Having said that, we are due for a freeze tonight into tomorrow morning - this means some swaddling of lemon tree and geraniums.  Repotting geraniums and schlepping the lemon tree inside are on The List.  So far, however, I have not had more than a portion of a day per weekend into which I must cram five-days worth of work.  Not surprisingly, I do not succeed.  I am hoping - after this, another truncated weekend - to get most of my pre-Winter things done by the end of the month.  Har, har, ho, ho, har, har.









Friday, October 6, 2017

Kombucha Korner and Ratty-Tatty Jim-Jams

I have tried and failed to maintain Kombucha over the past year.  My ever-patient source of all things Kombucha, Lisa, has come to my rescue on numerous occasions.  I had thrown in the towel and dehydrated my last SCOBY and moved on, when I came across a Freecycle listing for a free SCOBY in a town not too far from me.  It had been a while since my last attempt, so I pulled up my BGPs and said I would love one.  Well, this time it's magic!  First, the SCOBY I inherited was about an inch thick.  A big, lovely, healthy SCOBY.  Second, the woman who had grown this lovely thing was something of an Earth Goddess type.  I drove quite a distance, following both paved and dirt roads, until I came to a dead end on a very remote dirt road and rolled into a little slice of Heaven, tucked way back into the woods.  If I had known, I would have put the dogs in the car and packed a bag...


She gave me some very good information, handed over this monster SCOBY plus some Kombucha to house it safely, and was thrilled to get a dozen eggs in return. 


It's been over three months and look!

L-R:  New batch of Kombucha fermenting;
Kombucha Hotel; bottled Kombucha in
last fermentation before fridge
(Check out the SCOBY in that jar!)
I even have a SCOBY hotel!  I feel absolutely virtuous.


Hold that feeling.


I admit that I hang onto clothing way past its lifetime.  I will patch, mend, sew, darn, glue, and do whatever necessary to keep it together.  This is particularly true with two items in my wardrobe - my dressing gown/bathrobe and my favorite cotton pullover/sweatshirt thing.
OMG

OMGG!!!
I am inordinately attached to my robe.  It is an LLBean chamois robe that originally belonged to my maternal grandmother - although that is not the source of my sentiment.  She has been gone for - it's got to be over 20 years!  I have patched it, I have put new collar and cuffs and a tie on it.  But it is now literally falling apart at the seams.  Seams I have resewn.  I have not been able to find a robe that I liked as much as this one.  I even ordered a new chamois robe that was woefully poorer in quality.  So I clung onto the original for dear life.  I had to revisit the need for a new robe this fall, as I am afraid the sleeves will fall off and I will freeze.  Lo and behold, I think I have found a replacement that may stand up to this high benchmark!  It's another LLBean robe - even though more and more of their trademark items are falling to Chinese low standards.  I received it yesterday and I think it will stand up to the test of time.  Check with me in 20+ years.


The cotton sweatshirt?  The neck, wrist and hem bands have stretched into a ruffled state and it is rather fragile.  I don't dare wear it.  So it lies supine in a bottom drawer.  I am sentimental to a fault. 





Wednesday, September 27, 2017

click, click, click.......chirrup, chirrup, chirrup.....scratch, scratch, scratch.....

So goes the unending soundtrack to the progression of sleepless nights, as I segue into what should be autumn.  It always takes me a month or two for me to get in sync with the short days and long nights and it's worse this year with the uber-warm temperatures both day and night.  I am also a very light sleeper, which is not helpful.  I am usually nodding off by 8:30, unless I can force myself up and into action after evening chores.  That rarely happens. 


I am out like a light by 9, then, around 2A, my conscious brain (there is so little of it left...) starts to hear the click of cat nails, the chorus of crickets outside the bedroom window and the unknown things that are gnawing, scratching and making unpleasant little noises.  Since Mr. P Butter's entrance into the homestead, Slimbo Kitten has been a little down in the dumps.  There is some easing of tensions, as MPB is less likely to bolt after him now that he recognizes him as part of the family, but Slimbo still stays in his room most of the time.  This is hard on him (and me) because he was my cuddlesnugums after Pepperoni died.  His place is now filled by the interloper.  Since I wasn't sleeping anyway, I have taken to leaving my bedroom door open and Slimbo now tippy-taps his way in as soon as MPB is safely crated and lights are out, purring madly, and jumps up on the bed, finds a comfy position, and is down for the night.  He is much happier.


My rule of thumb is, if I am not able to coerce myself back to sleep within a half-hour of waking up, I get up.  This eliminates the chance of the endless loop of unhelpful thoughts that pop up and won't go away.  An upside of this is that I have completed one pair of socks for my sister, and I am well into the second pair.  The downside is that I have to make sure I am not nodding off on my way home at night.  This usually entails downing a large latte at some point during the afternoon, which, perversely, keeps me awake at night.  It's a vicious circle. 



Monday, September 25, 2017

I'm All Baked Out.

Another whirlwind weekend.  Since there was lots going on and the temperatures were going to be in the upper 80s to low 90s with accompanying humidity, I decided that I should spend most of the weekend in front of a hot oven.  I really can't help myself.  It started Friday night, when I finally got to try a new pizza crust recipe using zucchini.  I had seen this on a blog that I admire and saved it for trying some hot, sultry evening.


Zucchini & cheese - what's
not to love?

Phase 2 - the Prebake

I couldn't wait...
I was such a rousing success, that I toyed with the option of having nothing but zucchini pizza crusts for the next week - never mind the toppings!  This is a complete winner and I will be making more of these and freezing them - as long as the zucchini (Marianne's, not mine) holds out.


Then there was the anniversary dinner for my parents.  I whipped up a GF pineapple upside down cake Saturday morning.  This is a solid standard for me - it has never let me down.  No one even guessed it was GF.  It also helped ease the pain of my mechanic's bill...almost.
It came out of the pan in
perfect condition!
In between, there were two batches of my new favorite granola/muesli - cherry and pecan.  Although the second batch was cherry, walnut and almond.  I had run out of pecans.  The first batch went to my neighbor and my sister.  The second is all mine.  You can find the recipe here.  I really like it because it is not too sweet, using maple syrup instead of sugar.
Half of batch #1

I had invited Marianne over for dinner on Sunday because it was a great way to get to spend some quality time with her.  She brought about 10# of tomatoes, more zucchini (!!!!!!), a cucumber, apples, and a bottle of wine.  Good grief.  She also schlepped her apple picker because I had two pears out of reach on my good old pear tree.  It was a great evening, topped off with:
Prune Plum Crumble!
I was too distracted to take a picture pre-dinner.  I am saving the pips because those plums are soooo delicious, I am hoping to start my own trees.  You will see two and a half pints of diced tomatoes next to it - I am managing a couple, few pints of things here and there.  I do not have a great deal of tomatoes (although Marianne is trying...) for canning up a big batch, so doing a couple at a time has worked out great.  I have what amounts to a stainless steel asparagus cooker that I use as a tiny batch hot water canner.  Bonus!


The best part of the weekend?  Celebrating the Official Foster Failure of Peanut Butter!  He is ours, officially.  He and Lovey (and Slimbo) had tiny hamburger patties cooked on the grill to celebrate.
Guarding his strawberry
On a humorous note, as part of the anniversary celebration, my mother requested that we convene on their den and look at family slides.  Slides, for those young whippersnappers, were the iPhone pics of the 60s and 70s.  There was much riotous laughter.  I leave you with evidence of my moody teenage self.
I was very big on bangs.  And
fashionable sunglasses.  But I made
the shorts... :)

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Musettes

Musettes (noun:  very small musings due to non-focus of gray matter or limited time...)




Isn't it interesting how your eyes can play tricks on you?  I came home from work and was getting changed for barn chores while I looked out the bedroom window and into the poultry yard.  I froze.  Was that a dead bird that the chickens were pecking away at?!?  OMG!  I raced out the door, shot across the deck and down the stairs to find....the remains of a particularly large red cabbage that my neighbor had tossed in for the hens.  This reminded me of being a freshman in college in Michigan, slogging through the snow in December towards class.  I was a typical over-sensitive, over-wrought artistic type who had gotten as far away from home as my grades and my budget would allow.  I was an art and English major, writing poetry and drawing well into the night.  Very over-dramatic.  As I slogged along, I spotted a dead rabbit in the snow near a stream bank.  Weeping copious tears, I staggered towards the wee dead thing, to see if there was anything I could do.  It was a brown paper bag.
*****




I dream of the day when there is a way to deliver a virtual slap to a head.  I want to apply it to all the nimrods who meander along the road in front of you and turn - finally - only putting their turn indicator on when they are almost finished with the turn.  WHY BOTHER!
*****





As I was standing in the laundry room, waiting to remember why I was there, I wondered what the soundtrack to my typical day would be.  I could imagine the Cha-Cha; especially if you could do the steps like so:  one step forward, three steps back - cha, cha, cha!
*****


When someone wishes me "A Good One" - what does it mean?  A good day?  A good life?  A good session with my shrink?  An excellent cup of coffee?  A good stretch?  What?  I know it shouldn't drive me mad, but - let's be honest here - I am listing toward cranky old lady and it just seems to me to be another example of lazy talk.  I even prefer "Have a Nice Day!"  At least that has a tad more focus.  Pretty soon it will be "Have A Nice".  Then "Have".  Then we will be down to grunts. 
*****
There seems to be a preponderance of dead skunks on, by, near the road over this past week.  I have a healthy respect for them (as should everyone....) and they do occupy a rather soft spot in my heart.  Way back - as in WAAAAY back - I had a pet skunk.  These were the days when I was an apartment dweller and no dogs were allowed.  Or cats, in most places.  But nowhere to be found in the multi-paged leases was reference to skunks.  Or hermit crabs.  Or button quail.  All of which were under my care for a time.  Not at the same time, of course.  "Pooh" was a cuddly little fellow who went on walks with me in his harness and leash ensemble.  There was always a faint whiff of Eau-de-Poo around him, but he had been de-scented.  I was forever haunting pet stores and trying to save whatever I could.  It's been a lifelong goal.  Anyhoo, Pooh and I were quite the team, walking down our neighborhood sidewalks.  The only drawback was that, when he got excited or nervous (which was any time there was another person or living thing besides me in range) he would bite me.  While I wanted to give him exercise and fresh air as often as possible, we were limited to very early mornings or evenings, out of self-defense.  I finally had had enough of serving as a pin cushion and went through a lengthy process of finding him a new home.  Which I did, I am happy to say, and he lived a good, long and happy life with a friend in the sticks.
*****
Hermit crabs were not the ideal companion for me, as I crave a more cuddly nature.  The only time they provided much excitement was when they 'moved house'.  I would keep my eye on them and watch for any sign that they had outgrown their present motorhome.  Then I would put in an assortment of larger shells and watch.  It was fascinating, watching them line up, straddle the new digs with both claws, then hoist their odd, shriveled hineys into the new shell to try it on.  But, in the end, it wasn't enough to form a lasting bond.
*****
A note to the no-show winners of the cookbook and chicken saddles - If I am not contacted by the end of Friday, I will re-draw (or, in the case of the saddles - reshelve) a new winner.









Monday, September 18, 2017

Little Rays of Sunshine.

Life has been brightened immeasurably by a whole series of little rays of sunshine.  Peanut has proved to be the balm for my soul, still scarred by the loss of Kramer and Pepper.  He is an adorable bundle of love and energy.  Even Lovey has perked up.  Slimbo is thawing, although he is never sure if he will be ignored, sniffed, kissed, or chased by the newest resident.
With his "Cupcake".

Too tired to even wrap up
in his blanket.  Playing is hard
work!
I got to celebrate my mother's 94th birthday - with her! 


I get texts and emails filled with encouragement and love from bloggy pals, sisters and friends.


Jasmine still acknowledges me when I call her name.
Sweet old girl.


The biggest ray of sunshine? 
I couldn't believe my eyes!

Glorious!
Dear, sweet, utterly thoughtful Michelle of Boulderneigh, went out to her prune plum tree and picked a HUGE pile for me, put them in a box and MAILED THEM.  Can you believe it?  I was truly and completely gobsmacked.  The second most amazing thing is that, all the way from Oregon, only two of the many delicious, beautiful plums were damaged.  I had to eat those right away...  It's given me a new respect for the USPS.  The rest are destined for my favorite GF recipe - The Plum Crumble of My Dreams.  It truly IS a dreamy and GF crumble.  And I'm not sharing it.  I will start my diet next week...


And even though my mechanic rained on my parade, I am sticking to the sunny side of the street.  I am one blessed, lucky gurl.





Monday, September 11, 2017

Peanut Butter - Hold the Jelly.

The one good thing about being wide awake at 3AM, is that you can take advantage of an alert mind (more or less, leaning heavily on the less) to plan out your day to its utmost usefulness.  Then, once you are awake and up and functioning, you can watch it all crumble into dust.


Since I am now in my seasonal up-real-early-for-no-apparent-reason state, I do some of my best thinking before I venture out of bed.  Lovey is very relieved to know that she does NOT have to get up, too, and burrows blissfully under her fleece blanket for another two hours.  I, meantime, have a giant cup of coffee, check my email - just in case something really important has happened in the wee, dark hours - and knit.  I like my morning routine, especially on the weekends.


Saturday morning, after plotting out my day from sun-up to sun-set, I made my coffee and tottered to my chair, where I wedged in besides Slimbo and opened my email.  It was then that my plans disappeared into the ether.  I had been sending out feelers to volunteer as a foster home for any dogs that met our criteria (older, male - preferably, although we may be open on that item - non-aggressive, good with cats and all things living).  With such a huge influx of dogs and cats coming into our area from Houston and Florida, we wanted to help.  Due to the limits of both space and layout, my house cannot safely quarantine a dog, so mostly, we were not suitable.  Then, this.  Meet Peanut Butter.
I see impending foster failure, don't you?


What?!  What kind of name is that?  Send it back!
PB, also know as Nutter Butter, Bullet, and Whiz, was in foster because of a neglect case north of me.  His owner had been keeping him and his dog brother - a border collie - confined in crates ALL THE TIME, and they were seized, both covered in urine and feces, PB with skin infections, most of his hair gone.  He is through all of his medications and most of his hair is back, although his ears are a little bald.  He is three and suffers from insecurity - and is one of the cuddliest dogs I've ever known.  The rescue needed a new foster because the family who had him wanted to take on more dogs - large house, good set-up for quarantine and very loving people.  The rescue wanted to know if I was interested.  Well, yes, I was.  Lovey and I dumped all other plans and headed towards the city to meet him.  It went well, so the three of us and PB's giant bag of possessions were headed home.  The first three hours were filled with a mostly-haired, reddish brown ricochet ball, zooming around the house, careening off the furniture.  I got them outside in the fenced area and Lovey discovered - to her pleasure - that he was playful!  They never looked back.  Slimbo is withholding approval until PB stops barking at him.  Later that afternoon, I was able to get things done because...
Foster brothers are exhausting.

I better still be in Heaven when
I wake up - with my bone.


While they were sleeping, I snuck off to Marianne's to deliver her weekly eggs and get my swag in return.
Zucchini, cukes, mushrooms, tomatoes,
kohlrabi and apples (not pictured)

They don't call it an Oxheart tomato
for nothing!
I then came home and made a new vege casserole, which I will definitely make again - sorry, no photos.  Foster brothers ARE exhausting!


Sunday was cleaning and I decided to tackle two crafty-type things that I have been skirting for months - decorating a little footstool and framing these:




Way back, long, long (looooooong) ago, when I was little, my Uncle Jimmy was in the Army, in South Korea.  When he came back, he brought three little Korean outfits for his three little nieces.  Believe it or not, I still have mine.  I had always wanted to mount and display the outfit - shoes and all - in a box frame.  This never happened, as I would have to have it custom-made and it would cost a fortune.  But I did find a small box frame and intended to at least frame the shoes.  They sort of look like something you'd find in an ancient tomb don't they?  Unfortunately, the frame is not deep enough and I don't want to apply pressure to the shoes, as they will disintegrate.  I am on to Plan B, whatever that may be.  Also, frustratingly, my intention of completing my little step-stool project was also flummoxed when I could not find my paint pen!  Curses.  Not to worry, I have at least seven other projects in the works...

*****


Giveaway results:




Claire's Corner - KYMBER!


Chicken Saddles - KAY SAYLOR!


Raw Energy - AMBER RAVIS!


Thank you, all those who entered.  Winners please email your mailing info to swomersley at gmail dot com.



















Friday, September 8, 2017

All Rainbows Lead Home.



Last night, on my mountain
road home.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

How about something different?

I needed to get my mind off my so-called garden and other, equally distressing topics today.  How about a good, old-fashioned give-away?


My new 'rule' is to confine my cookbooks to a small bookshelf in the kitchen.  If I get a new one, one has to go - besides, there wasn't room to squeeze them in!  Here's what is in offer:



Also up for grabs are three lovely - and sturdy - chicken saddles.  I had had a particularly hard time keeping one of my hens in back feathers when I had the two lunatic roosters in the chicken yard.  The saddles came in a pack of five and, at the most, I only needed two.  So there are three available.  They are brand-spankin new:






Leave a comment as to which item you would like and I will choose the winners Sunday and announce them Monday.  The give-away is open to the U.S. and Canada.


Bon chance!

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Fencing Do-si-do, What I Won't Do for My Sister, (Not Good) Surprises.

As summer ends with a thud and a whimper, I find myself really hustling during my few available daylight hours.  Having a long weekend is a godsend - even if a third of it gets rained out.  In my never-ending quest to get some big things checked off The List, I have now resorted to blocking areas by the days available.  Ergo:  Saturday = garden, cooking.  Sunday = housecleaning, cooking, preserving.  Monday = last of the house-washing, refencing rhubarb, unfencing duck yard.  Yeehah!  That was the plan - in theory.  In reality?  Actually, I was pretty close!


Saturday garden work was put aside because I got fixated on the fencing.  Focus like a fruit-fly, I tell you.
Before fence removal and invasion
of the flock(s)

Old, rusty, cobbled-together fencing
down - invasion in full swing.

Invasion aftermath with new fencing
and a gate in place.
As an aside here, you will notice the complete lack of grass in the poultry yard.  This has never happened before but - in the early spring, as the little blades started poking up, above the dirt, we got about two weeks of solid rain, followed by hot weather and no rain for two weeks.  It, in essence, created a hard crust that the grass never was able to penetrate.  I am hoping that it will come back next year.  Either that, or I will have to come up with some convoluted reseeding plan.


Dotty, the Speckled Sussex, is my
constant companion and award-winning
snoopervisor.

Checking the pussy willow for bugs.
I also took down most of the duck compound fencing and reconfigured it for winter.  I do not let them have full run during most of the winter because they create havoc with the heated chicken waterer.  I have also decided to rehome the small coop, as I am not going to be raising meat chickens again and, if I do need to resupply the egg-laying flock, I am going to have them raise their own.  This will come as welcome news to two of the hens - who go broody at the drop of a hat.
Betty Rubble in the foreground, Crazy
Mary behind her, Freddie the Bearded
Lady to the left, Gertie, then two
unnamed girls.

Gossip around the water pool.
After I got the old fencing taken down and packaged for recycling, I had just enough time to rush inside, spiffy up and head out to meet my sister at the (dreaded) Garlic Festival.  It was a beautiful day for it.
Nice day for cleaning water
buckets
I will interject here that I would rather have dental surgery than go to this festival.  In it's beginning, quite a few years ago, it was a small, quaint, mostly organic garlic festival that was all about garlic. 
Standing by the honey vendor, looking
at the syrup vendor.
It has morphed into a huge monster - crammed with booths that have little, if anything, to do with garlic.  This year, because of the weather forecast (Sunday was rain all day), it was PACKED.  I spent a half hour inching along the main route to reach the parking area.  Then you shuffled along with a mass of humanity (my least favorite thing ever) toward the entrance.  Then you were shoved along with the stream.  If it wasn't for the fact that my sister is a dear heart and I would do anything at all for her, I would have run in, grabbed my garlic and then headed in a straight line for the exit.  BUT.  I did managed to get half of my garlic seed and we did stumble upon a Vermont winery that had the most excellent ginger liqueur...  And there was one reason it was (almost) worth the agony - apart from being able to spend time with my sister...
Fig tree!  Blonde du Blonde.
That's right.  I bought a fig tree.  This will replace my poor figgy, which died at my hands this year.  I was very happy to also find that the fellow who grows these is gladly on hand (via the internet) to answer questions and help one along. 


After another 20 minutes trying to get out of the parking lot, I did an errand or two and then headed home.  I stopped at my friend, Marianne's, to drop off eggs and got a 5 lb bag of organic apples, 10 lbs of RIPE tomatoes, three cucumbers, two zucchinis, and a bag of oyster mushrooms.  I may not even bother with a garden next year.  Honestly.
Four kinds of delicious, beautiful,
organic heirloom apples!

Zucs and cukes!
Sunday dawned with rain, which continued the entire day.  We got over an inch - and I'm not complaining, as it is a drop in the bucket, compared to other parts of the country.  Lovey and squished out during the lulls to do some fast weeding and pick whatever little was ripe.
Rain dripping off my solar pergola lights.
Two vege dishes were made - Sweet Corn and Zucchini Pie, a homestead favorite, and Tomato and Cheddar Pie - as well as a non-GF apple cake for the barn and the yard guy.  I did some adapting with the tomato pie, as I thought the amount of mayo was a little over the top for me.  Some housecleaning actually got done! 
Some of M's beautiful tomatoes, sliced and draining
before becoming pie.
As far as the Not-Good surprise, I have been working diligently on wrenching up the disintegrating top rail on my deck.  Apparently, the original owners did not choose to use pressure-treated wood when building the deck.  What I thought would be a fairly easy fix, is now turning out to be much more involved.  So far, the support 2x4 under the rail top on one portion will need to be replaced, along with at least one 4x4 post.  Poop.


Sigh.

More sighing.