shooting stars


One of my favorite summer vegetables is okra. More than any other in our garden, I look forward to watching the buttery blooms form fruits like shooting stars, and gathering handfuls each day. Early this morning around 5am I got up and stood on the balcony hoping and waiting and yes, I saw one meteor. It was a gift. I wasn't expecting to be able to see any here in town, especially with the street lamp blaring, but one dashed beside the little dipper.

We have a full weekend ahead, today we celebrate a house project my husband's company just completed, wahoo! Then on Sunday celebrating and remembering the life of his grandma who passed away this week.

I'll be taking an extended weekend so see you back around Tuesday,


In the mailbox this afternoon was the roll of film from my beach trip [I have to send film off to KC now that our local photo shop closed :(] My sister and I set up our little camp right there most days, going either in the morning or late afternoon. The third photo I took here in town but on the roll it just happened to be next to the middle photo and I liked them together. You have to look closely to find the umbrella in that second shot.

You know, I've got a mental block on learning how to can fruits or vegetables, but if we could figure out how to "can" that summer feeling of being at the beach, I think I'd learn.

A sense of urgency

The month of August fills me with a sense of urgency. 
An urgency to stop, to resist the starting of things like new school years (futile, I know), but to savor the long, languid hours of daylight that end with flaring bright pink evening skies, to relish the open time in the studio and in the garden, to appreciate grilling our fresh vegetables and taking evening bike rides. To hear the screaming cicadas and watch grasshoppers blaze about, jumping wildly from the grape plants to the okra, with no particular intention, and yet to also look forward to what else summer still has in store: like our first edamame and okra harvest of the season, which will be any day now. So I tell myself I need to hurry up and hold it all the best I can because it is trying to get away.
Saturday I was standing in the kitchen drying a mixing bowl and looking out the window when a monarch dipped down and then a hummingbird, both to the zinnia blooms. Then a pair of house sparrows rested on the edge of our new makeshift birdbath (a fresh galvanized oil pan with a few rocks in it) and then a rabbit hopped by, munching on the grass. I recalled how as a child I loved the scene in Snow White (or was it Sleeping Beauty? Those Disney movies all blur into the same story) when all the animals and birds gathered and a bird rested on her finger. That's how that little moment outside my window seemed. 
And I say urgency because my teaching days begin around the corner and that signifies that soon it will be autumn and then winter and it will be a long time until spring and summer reach us again.
So I've got this summer by the tail, with a firm, white-knuckled grip and am trying not to let any of it's goodness slip by unnoticed.


Although I didn't purchase these particular flowers from the farmer's market this morning, I do like them. Do you know what they are called? I picked up a few stems of yellow yarrow and purple something-or-other instead. We also got a dozen ears of fresh sweet corn, a handful of tomatoes to tide us over until ours are ripe, and a few red potatoes. I can't wait for that corn, I imagine we will throw some on the grill tonight with slabs of zucchini & squash from the garden. Yum yum.

Hope you're having a nice weekend,