Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Oh Deer!

Whenever driving and a deer is seen on the roadside, or crossing the road (or leaping into the road or...there's a lot of deer around here), either Elijah or Allie say, Oh deer! Since I'm usually in the backseat, I didn't get it right away, but I like it. 

The other day, sitting in the Turtle, a movement outside caught my eye. Maybe it was this tiny, sparrow like bird, but no. It was much bigger.

Usually when I've seen deer out in the field it is in the early to late morning and it was now after noon, but there he was, strolling over to the blueberry patch. Well, it's way more than a patch, it's lots and lots of blueberries that get sold in the honor stand. Strawberries done, it's blueberries and raspberries now. Yum. But I digress. There he was.

I'll just go slow and maybe no one will see me

The blue netting keeps out the deer and most of the birds
His antlers still fuzzy with youth, he was still a pretty big deer. Usually there are a couple at least but he was on his own. 

I was making clicking noises, he went on alert

But maybe I can still get to the blueberries! 
Finally he saw me and decided to retreat. I thought he'd go down the drive but instead he headed across the field to the safety of tall grass and the woods.

Fuzzy photo of a leaping deer.

In the cut field, he could do some high step running.

Ah, safe in the grasses
I clicked one more time before he went into the woods and was rewarded with one more look. I'm sure the lure of berries will bring him out again, but this was this day. 

So long for now, young buck. Thanks for the visual entertainment!

Have a tapestried Tuesday. Do something thoreauvian.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Looking Back

It was hot yesterday, as in, find some shade and absorb it. The old wooden bench that once lived on Elijah's old porch is now in a different spot, one of the afternoon shady areas. I stretched out on it and remembered the year I slept on it the first time I came out here to visit. Under my eyelids a movie played, remembering what it was like back then. No tiny cabin, no yurt, no fence, no gardens. And a big pile of strange metal parts and pieces. It was time to do some yard meanderings.

The old boat is still waiting for the river to rise.
Long time blog readers might remember the giant pile of bits and pieces I sorted through years ago.

This was after pulling most of it out from under the madrone tree.
Incredibly, this was sorted. In some way.

This is all that's left today
The old truck is still in the tree. Or the tree is still in the old truck. Or both.

A few bits of the old farm machinery is still around as well.

A serious mixer

Pretty simple

Lots of ouch capacity here
But today is a new day! Another sunrise, another Sunday Funday. Going back is enjoyable, going forward is the adventure. Be here now.

Have a salubrious Sunday! Do something shining.

Thursday, July 12, 2018

In the Garden

Even though I only planted a few things, garden fascination is easy upkeep for me. Every day something unexpected happens, even if it is totally expected and certainly hoped for. All from one little seed. 

Out of somewhere/nowhere, these Sungold's popped out!
It's been three weeks since I planted the 4 inch plant.
If they hurry, I might be able to taste one.
I just had a total learning experience about this pepper below. I bought it as a sweet pepper, assuming it would be a typical green bell pepper, but really, mostly because I liked the name, Jimmy Nardello. C'mon, it's a great name. If I ever have a cat or dog or unicorn, I'm naming it Jimmy Nardello. 

Anyway, when I saw these yesterday I thought, Jimmy Nardello! What are you doing? This doesn't look like a green sweet pepper to me. As it turns out, Jimmy Nardello is exactly who Jimmy Nardello is. Not a green bell pepper at all.

"This fine Italian pepper was grown each year by Giuseppe and Angella Nardiello, at their garden in the village of Ruoti, in Southern Italy. In 1887 they set sail with their one-year-old daughter Anna for a new life in the USA. When they reached these shores, they settled and gardened in Naugatuck, Connecticut, and grew this same pepper that was named for their fourth son Jimmy. This long, thin-skinned frying pepper dries easily and has such a rich flavor that this variety has been placed in "The Ark of Taste" by the Slow Food organization. Ripens a deep red, is very prolific, and does well in most areas."
So it looks like a cayenne, tastes like a sweet and grows really easily. Just so you know. The link above can be used to order as well, from a seed company I really like a lot, Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds


This is one planted before I got here, with the strangest stem I've ever seen on a tomato; the flat, twisting stem is almost two inches wide.
I hope I get to see at least one of these weirdos ripen.
These are, or will be, yellow plum tomatoes.
The fig tree that was planted when Iko was born has been sparse on the figs. Until the other day when we noticed baby figs everywhere on it! It's due for a transplant from its pot, but maybe now isn't the time. 

With everyone gone yesterday afternoon, I gave in to garden urges and pulled this radish out from the crowd. It was beautiful. And delicious. 

Shhhh, they'll never miss it!
This is the raised bed the radish was grown in.
Everything in here is going crazy right now,
from the radishes to the
indigo dye plants to the sunflowers.
Raised bed gardening works.
The peas are about done, sugar snap, sweet and red. 
A neighbor offered to share these sugar snap peas from their garden. Who says no to that? I blanched them for about a minute (barely) and took a small bowl of them into the yard under the tree to enjoy the tranquility. Wine and peas pairing, who knew? A book thrown in the mix, Tranquility Tree was once again tranquil.

All edible

Grandkids are usually pretty marvelous. Being alone in the quiet of this place is pretty marvelous as well. Balance is good, especially if you are standing on your head. I'm just tossing that in there for no particular reason. Coffee time is past due!

Have a transcendent Thursday. Do something transformational.