fall planting

planting daffodils, scilla siberica & muscari. oh, & crocus. but those bulbs were already planted when this pic was taken. some around the apricot tree in the back. others around the buckeye tree in the front. some along my fence.

I like the idea that these bulbs, hibernate away in the ground all winter. and then will pop out in spring.

















also, Mums. these are planted in the back. where the "2007 Hosta Experiment" failed to thrive. (I'm so over hostas)

I just recieved note that my gardening place is having a sale this weekend. in which, I may buy even more of these things.

annual funtimes

 

every September, since I was 7, my father has packed up the car and taken my brother and I to the Walnut Valley Festival, in southeastern Kansas. My father and stepmother can still be described as giddy during this time of year.
and it is, for my brother and I, an annual no-miss event.

it involves bluegrass and flatpicking. campfires and walnut trees. coffee in the morning and beer all afternoon. indian tacos. baked potatoes & corn-on-the-cob from a stand. meals from a camp stove. fireside chats & long walks around the campgrounds. afternoons listening to the sleepy sounds of guitars, mandolins & banjos being played all around.

the oh-be-joyfulness of these times is hard to describe. but the friends that I've brought along from time-to-time, have become instant lifetime fans.

but I'm back now. after a week of funtimes. and I've caught up on my sleep. and I'm back in the real world. on to enjoying Fall.

driveway shot

the farm sits on what used to be an old country road. that over the years has become more of a county highway, linking smaller cities to a larger one.
so, the old mailbox, gets beat up a lot. every so often a large truck roars by, and slams the mailbox around. or, just knocks it right off into the ditch.

spent some time out a mom's place this weekend. had grand thoughts of digging up some daylilies for transplant in my yard. and possibly catching some pics of the rusty red milo in the fields. a color quite amazing, when up against Kansas blue.

but, laziness was queen. and instead just walked around a bit. ignoring shovels. and without energy to walk out to the back field.

this photo was taken at the end of the driveway. as I was leaving.

50cent watermelon & blackberry jam

it is true that I may have bought this little watermelon with the curly-q top, simply because of the cute factor. (similar to why I bought a little purple & white striped eggplant last weekend--even though, I don't even like eggplant)
but it is also far less overwhelming, the idea of eating this little thing vs. one of the huge ones.

I've been converted to the blackberry (or apricot) jams & jellies of a elderly woman (who always is under a wide-brimmed straw hat) at the farmer's market. she picks the blackberries. and turns them into delicious-ness.

mom mentioned once, how long the winter seemed at a point, when she realised how much longer she had to wait to taste this blackberry jam again.

so, I've stocked up. 3 in the fridge.

soon it will all smell like fall

the farmer's market is still full of tomatoes and obnoxiously-large zucchini. but the green beans are long gone, and the cucumbers harder to find.
and soon all the cantaloupe, with a perfume slightly rotten, which permeates the outdoor market, will be replaced by pumpkins.
right before the sun goes down, the cicada songs burst overhead. the insect hum so loud, you have to raise your voice to be heard, when talking with a neighbor on the sidewalk.

read this in Updike's "Marry Me" last night,
"She was still in the kitchen when he came in the back door; the cry of cicadas, the dry football smell of summer's end, followed him in."

fading

as we have reached the hottest part of summer, it also begins to fade. all those vibrant colors from June have dimmed a shade.
my neighbor has sunflowers next door. in the backyard, they tower 10ft high in a cluster.

all now with heavy heads, they droop.
from over my fence, it looks like a band of tired giants. waiting out the sun.




one grows in the front, next to my driveway.

weary

since this was the first time for a garden in this yard. I knew there was a chance that something would go awry.
and though I had added in some new soil/compost, there must still be something wrong here.

my once beautiful tomato plants are withering. (still producing fruit, though)


I'll have to investigate and come up with a prevention plan for next year.

for now, I still happily have far too many cherry toms to eat.

pink

though I don't remember doing this. apparently I decided, back in those early days of hopeful spring-to-come, to only plant pink & green zinnias.

they are quite pretty. (I like this misfit, not quite blooming as the others do)

but, I now miss, all the usual oranges, reds & yellows. so, next year.

evening

in july.

riches

moments like this. will help me get out of bed in the dark, cold misery of February days.

green

zinnia.

best with salty butter

so, yesterday. was an oddly cool day. and a whiff of a comment from a passing friend, who mentioned it would be a good day to bake bread, stuck in my brain.

once again, I used the honey whole-wheat recipe from Martha's Baking Handbook (and basically here, on her site). forgetting to coat the tops with something for a moister crust.

I also lost my will power to keep kneading the dough, about halfway through the rec. time.

whenever I'm kneading bread, I feel like I should be in some old, 2-story, white farmhouse. plopped in between a grove of cottonwoods and a wheat field. with windows open, and kids running through the kitchen. a husband in the barn. and outside the window over the kitchen sink, a view of laundry on the line.

anyways. the bread was good. shortened knead time and all. I sliced a piece before it was cool. and layered on some butter.

purple but green, beans

it was raining yesterday at the farmer's market. big drops that actually hurt, if you look up for some reason, and they hit your eyes.

the only beans I found were these. they were labeled, "green beans $4.00/pound"

of course they are purple. I wonder if they will get darker after being bubbled around in boiling water for a bit. I'm curious. with a little trepidation. as I prefer vegetables to stay of the standard variety, and fit their name. call me old fashioned. or...boring.

Update: when you drop the purple beans into boiling water, the purple instantly disappears. and they become...dark green beans.

pesto pesto july

yes, again. with the pesto.
but the basil keeps growing. so I keep pesto-ing.
wish aroma could translate through a jpg.

and I learned that if you run out of parmesan cheese, a little salt does the trick.

and pine nuts go from lightly toasted, to burned, in super-lightning-speed.

the fourth

for the morning, spent at mom's picnic table. a sunny & bright morning. muggy too. we had fresh out-of-the-oven cinnamon rolls, fruit and icy water.
nephew and I squealed over a crop of kittens in the barn.
Picked & ate my first fresh cherry tomato of the season.
the windmill was barely creaking, as the south wind was not in action for the morn. I finally felt the summer sweat on my skin. (wasn't as thrilled as I thought I'd be, these past weeks of cool, rainy days).

for the afternoon party, at another farm. few miles north of town.
a slip-and-slide had been set up for the hot kids. an 2-gallon jug of Mojitos had been made for the adults. we also had plenty of High Life keeping cool. then a storm rolled in. we watched it come for about an hour. the dark clouds just keeping getting more and more steely-blue. then the wind came, and leaves began swirling in the air. then, the rain. a slow, soaking, summer rain for the rest of the evening. we ate grilled chicken, baked beans and chips with a salsa straight out of the day's gardening. with umbrellas in hand. or standing under the old tractor shed next to rusty a rusty combine. and eventually, the fireworks came out. which the boys (and kids) set off, in the rain. indignant, or just accustomed, Kansans do what they must. even when the weather is uncooperative. especially, when it involves setting off expensive and noisy fireworks.

there was also an escapade involving someone's dog catching & killing a rooster. since somehow, the chickens got out of their coop.

came home buzzy from the minted rum, and ready for some dry clothes.

seeds

in the winter, especially that horrid bout of February. when all is dead, and has been dead too long, one of my escapes is to dream of the garden I will one day plant.

Recently read about this at yougrowgirl.com, and am excited at the prospect of what is found in the Kitazawa catalog of asian seeds. I quickly ordered one...it is always fun to look beyond the world of Burpee. (Though, I spend much time poring over it too). Will stash it away until those darks days are here....

for now, am just waiting for all the rain to stop. So my plants full of green tomatoes, can begin to turn that lovely shade of red.

damp

damp and rainy day. sticky Kansas humidity. wet with rain. a day when the light never changes, and it is nap-inducing dark all-day-long.

so damn dreary today. my mood could use a little more sun. and my tomatoes.

but since I'm trying to be more "positive" in daily life. at least, it is cool outside. not Kansas-hot yet.

If I were an herb

I might be in love with my fellow basil.
It's name derived from the Greek word for "King".
It deserves such a title.
A bit fragrant, like cloves, and those shiny, bright green leaves. Thriving in the sunny heat of summer.

This Genovese Basil, which I planted from seed this year, has begun to reach it's abundance. I have close to 20 plants growing, in different stages. And I'm carefully plucking it each week, and making myself pesto.

Amazing what a little green, garlic, nuts, cheese and olive oil can create.

from yellow, to green, to wonderful

someday, I'll pluck a lovely, juicy red cherry tomato from where this flower grows.

lights & hums

though I have no photo. (though, ridiculously, I did try)
the fireflies are abundant now. they've been about for over a week.
as soon as the sun begins to fall.
I love how they glide through the air. lazily. flickering.

accompanied by the sound of the cicadas hum. a sound which falls from the trees and rather fills up the air.