Clearly, things have not gotten much better vis-a-vis the time thing.

Still, I thought someone out there might be interested to know that I found these in a pile in the henhouse the other day:

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OK, so this has nothing to do with food, unless you’re this guy:

Whatcha got there is a hawk (or falcon, maybe?), on the right, who’s just picked off a swift in flight.  You can see the soon-to-be-ex-swift hanging.  I can only guess the other swift swooped in like Bruce Willis in Die Hard and saved his flockmate at the last minute.  Let’s hear it for the underdog!

These Vaux’s swifts gather every year by the tens of thousands and nest in that chimney, which has been stabilized for their exclusive use.  The school installed a gas heater so they wouldn’t have to use this anymore.  They have to live in chimneys because someone cut down all their trees.

Anyway, getting a picture of the swifts is a bit like trying to take a picture of a lovely autumn evening– or that feeling you get when you take your last test in college.  That is to say, it’s difficult.

Best I could do:

I also noticed a flock of these things:

Apparently, if you go to Chapman School in any given Fall evening, you’ll see these monkey-like creatures gathered by the hundreds.  They feed on “snacks” and “red wine” and stare up at the sky.  Then, just as mysteriously…

They  d i  s a p p e a r….

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So, remember how I was whining that we didn’t have any tomatoes?

Yeah, well, seems like that problem’s rectified itself.

Whatcha got there is Striped Romans, Brandywines, and LOTS of Principe Borghesies.  Tonight, I’ll be making a roasted tomato sauce for canning/freezing and firing up the dehydrator.

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A whole bunch of Sungolds and red cherry tomatoes joined with a big handful of basil and some fresh mozzarella and pasta to become this pasta ala tuscany.  We’ll be taking that as our snack to go watch the swifts at Chapman School in Portland.

These are mostly Striped Romans, sliced in half, and covered with onions, garlic, olive oil, herbs, salt and pepper.  I’ll roast them at 300 for an hour or so, run them through the food mill (pitch the skins), and then cook them down in a pot.  It is a tomato sauce of complete goodness.

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Shalom.

* “They turned red.”

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And being a chump, I’ve been real busy lately.  Sorry about that.

Also, our remodeled bathroom is almost done.  We didn’t get the window ordered in time, and so we’re in a holding pattern until that shows up later, but the rest is just awaiting inspection.  Anyway, my yard is a total mess, and I haven’t posted in a while.

I’m a poor excuse for a garden geek.  So sue me.

Without further ado…

Welcome to my Tuscan resort.  Honestly, I don’t know.  I’ve never been there.  Ya gotta think it looks like this, though, no?

We have flowers.  Mais oui.  (Which is what they speak in Tuscany.  French.)

Our second flush of raspberries is in full… uh… flush.  These would be yer Tulameen, if I’m not mistaken, which I often am.

And what Tuscan resort would be complete without a fig tree?  This thing has been VERY happy in the ground.  She did not like her pot one bit.

The Asian pear espalier is (literally) dripping with fruit.  This is, again probably mistakenly, a chojuro and a nijiseiki.  Voila!

These blueberries did not get the memo that their season is over.

Every year I plant something because I find a couple of seeds lying around, and I think it’s really too late, but what the heck… and almost every time, it is not at all too late.  These are papaya pear squashes.

This is your ready-made S-curve photo of a trombocino (which apparently means “penis” in Tuscan French) squash.

This is the one and only purple eggplant that I’ve seen from, maybe, five plants?  We’ve eaten half a dozen or more of the white “Casper” eggplants.  Normally, I’d expect to be chucking these at passing cars by now.

Brussels sprouts.  Dammit, I am going to eat some brussels sprouts from my garden– aphids be damned.  I always grow them, and I always end up eating two sprouts and then composting the plants because they’re all gross.  NOT THIS TIME!  NOT THIS ELECTION YEAR!  WE NEED CHANGE WE CAN EAT!

Walla walla!  Walla walla!  Baby onions for next year.

Baby beets for this winter.

Baby leeks for… whenever they decide to be ready.  Leeks are awesome.  If you don’t grow leeks, you are a terrorist.

Mags and Ethel.

Dots and Chicken-Without-Name

So, Chicken-Without-Name (formerly known as Shirley) has stopped laying.  Just like that.  She hasn’t produced an egg for a week.  The other girls crank out one a day.  So, she’s either got an egg wedged in her sideways (that’s not good) or she’s got some other issue (probably psychological, given her personality).

The chances of me taking her to the chicken vet are approximately zero in one billion.  I’ve got a cat that I have to give insulin shots twice a day.  He’s had cryptococcal granuloma, tooth abcesses, and now diabetes.  He is the $10,000 cat by now, at least.

I suggest daily to Shirley that I’m pretty much tapped out on the vet thing.  She really outta reach deep down within herself, bear down, and start cranking out some ova.  Tick tock.

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Sorry, been busy with work and the remodel, but… got a nice looking basket of goodies from the yard this morning (eggs, too!):

Whatcha got there is Asian pears, my last Oregon curl-free peach, Van Buren grapes, casper eggplants, yellow zukes, (borghese, striped roman, and sungold) tomatoes, cali wonder pepper, and trombocino squash.

Still, doesn’t mean I’m going to quit whining.

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