The Garden Continues

Thriving Brussels Sprouts

Ring of Orange Around the Pumpkin Blossom

White & Red Beets, Oompah-Loompah Zucchini

Scarlet Runner with Long Beans

Nearly-Ripe Russian Tomatoes

Aw...Last of the Blackberries

Time for More Wood

Last of the Summer Peaches

Saved for Winter

Turtle and Merganser

New Horse with No Name

Bootsy Sighting

Looking South from Elmira Pond

The idea that a garden is perpetual, appeals to me. It's a family-like relationship with the soil, weather, food and kitchen. Like a family, it's not always in sync. Sometimes the soil and weather are at odds. Sometimes the food is ready to harvest but the kitchen unprepared.

You can't garden wrong. Sure, you make mistakes, but they're the kind you learn from like knowing that basil doesn't produce broad leaves and peas are sulky when planted late in May or June. So you adjust--sow basil indoors and see if you can over-winter peas. If the squash didn't all get cooked, don't fret, just freeze it. It's open-ended learning, and there is no pass or fail.

It's mid-September and my garden is yet strong. Five Brussels sprout plants continue to unfurl rich green leaves, lined in purple. They are a cool-weather crop so I'm hoping that they will start producing fruit after it cools off for fall. My cauliflower plants haven't been as good growers, but we'll see how they do when the air gets crisper. I may yet plant carrots (winter carrots are super sweet) and try some over-wintering seeds.

Grow little pie pumpkin, grow! That vine is enormous and fickle. It craves more water than I've showered it with, yet one pumpkin has emerged from three rambling, and at times wilted, vines. A ring of orange is emerging around the dying blossom--a hopeful sign for future maturity. If it ripens, it will be the honored pie pumpkin of Thanksgiving 2013.

Zucchini, crook-necked squash and patty pans seem endless in production like oompah-loompahs are working a squash factory beneath giant leaves. If only zucchini were chocolate. But I have a recipe to make zucchini chutney; now to find the time. Writing and the outdoors sap my willingness to be puttering in the kitchen. Today's harvest is going to be dinner, though--white and red beets with greens (steamed and buttered, zucchini patties and Italian Ice tomatoes that I already ate).

Carefully, I am watching my tomatoes for ripening. The Russians are turning red, the Japanese are just now getting a twinge. They are destined for tomato sauce so the riper the better. The scarlet runner beans are forming enormous pods; bigger than any I ever grew in Minnesota, yet only one seed germinated this summer. I'm drying the beans and peas that are left on the vine for seeds next season.

Alas, the blackberries are winding down. I picked enough for one large batch of Blackberry Chicken, so into the freezer they went. When the blackberries go, the woodpile needs to grow bigger. Todd dreams of a chainsaw and I of a rototiller, but we'll make do with ax and hoe. We are scouting for salvage wood on our trips into the mountains. Feeding a woodstove all winter is demanding work, but the low electrical bill is worth it.

The last of the peaches from the Peach Man are now awaiting winter in the freezer as peach pie filling. There's nothing better on a snowy day than a blazing fire in the woodstove, stew in the crockpot and a summer peach pie fresh out of the oven. We ate so many peaches that we only had enough for three pies. Precious pies they will be. I had expected to get another case before the Peach Man left, but now I know not to wait next year!

The pond is not empty, yet. Blue Heron has remained elusive, but turtles are sunning daily on his log. Today a Lady Merganser joined a turtle in the sunshine. I was happy to see she's still hanging out, too.  The horses are still mowing away at the pastures, but we have a different horse to replace Pistol, another sorrel mare. We don't know her name and Snapper was not thrilled with the swap. Bootsy appeared on the fence outside my kitchen window as I washed the day's harvest. I guess we've all been busy.

The sun is setting, casting pink. It is the same view from Peace, only Elmira Pond is at the valley floor and Peace up in the mountains behind our house to the west. Pink is a good color to end the day with.

Super Moon Salsa

Moonrise Over Elmira Ranch

What to Do With Left Over Produce

Make Super Moon Salsa!

Red-tailed Hawk Just Sittin' in a Tree

I Think he's a Red-Tailed Hawk...

Might Be Crazy Cat Bird Upper Left

Sparrow, Cat Bird, or Siskin Harassing Hawk

You Should Hear the Bird Alarms Whistling!

Super Moon

Like a Big Pizza Pie

Or Albino Navel Orange

Raspberry Peach-Man Jam!

Moonrise over Elmira Pond is a success since we lack the normal cloud cover of the region. A lingering hawk greets the moon, harassed by pine siskins or perhaps chipping sparrows, maybe cat bird. They flit too fast for proper identification. The hawk watches as I harvest tarragon  for an inspired batch of Super Moon Salsa. Basically, it's a way to use up refrigerator produce and ripe peaches from the Peach Man. This is what the recipe turns out to be:

Super Moon Salsa

4 small white onions, finely chopped
3 vine ripened tomatoes, finely chopped
2 limes, juiced
9 tree ripened peaches, finely chopped
1 orange bell-pepper, finely chopped
2 sprigs of fresh tarragon, finely chopped
Heavy sprinkling of dried Aleppo pepper
Salt to taste (Real or Himalayan)

Chop, juice, mix and pour into jars. Refrigerate and serve within two weeks with corn chips or gluten-free Nut Thins (try smearing a tad of cream cheese on the Nut Thins first).

Enjoy the photos of the moon, the hawk and raspberry-peach-man jam!

Sticky Business

Pink Skies Over Elmira

One of Three Lady Mergansers

Two Chipping Sparrows

Someone Wants Attention

And, Someone Else is Not Interested

When Horses Sulk

Raspberries!

Peaches!

Sanitizing Jars

Mashing Berries

Raspberry Jam!

Peach Jam, Too!

Where We First Met

Early Morning Pond Report:

Pink. Light casts pink shadows on Elmira, Idaho. Some places have tangerine sunrises and others purple-mountain-majesty sunsets. Here, the sky pinkens like rose quartz. A few puffs of slate-gray clouds deepen the color expression and the mountain peak beyond the Pack River adopts the glow. What is there not to like about a pink start to a day?

It is hard for me to remember endless rain. A part of my brain accepts that it rains (drops or snowflakes) nine months out of the year. That's a lot of gray and white. But all this pink speaks of the dry season. Elmira Pond is shrinking and the grass is crisping. My garden drinks water every day and for the first time, I begin watering the grass on the ranch.

The birds must miss rain. The Merganser Ladies create their own rain with winged splashes upon the pond. A little pine siskin drops out of the  realm of bark and boughs to shower in my hose. Two chipping sparrows flit close enough for sprinkles, but are not as brazen of bathers as the siskin. Blue Heron continues to preen, with or without water.

The horses seem to be faring okay. They wade across the south end of the pond in the evenings and drink at will. The tender shoots of green grass they favor seem to be cropped short like a summer buzz-cut. I wonder if I should let them back into the pasture with the apple tree, but I'm preparing the bed here for over-winter onions. Not to mention, I like sitting beneath the apple tree.

Snapper is a mare and as mares are wont to do, she came into heat. Pistol is a gelding, meaning he's a neutered male. He's technically not suppose to be interested in her estrogen cycles. But he is...very interested. So the horses have been expressing summer love which is, well, let's say it's very interesting.

But Pistol is over his infatuation. Evidently, Snapper is not. She's "standing" and he's eating grass. So she's mifted and starts kicking the air. Pistol still is not finding her mood more inviting than short shards of summer grass. So he moves on and she sulks in the corner. Such is the drama today on Elmira Pond.

Harvest Report:

The raspberries are dripping on the canes. I'm hardly plucking and fat, juicy berries slide into my bucket. I sing raspberry songs, praise and worship for such a sweet bounty. More raspberries are developing and I am dreaming of jam.

Jam is sticky business. Fruit is sticky and wet. Sugar is stickier and no matter how contained I try to make the process, my kitchen counters, floors and even my elbows are sticky. Todd bought me a lug of peaches from the Peach Man. It is impossible to get peaches this ripe in any grocery store, even a co-op. It's just not possible. The skins are slipping right off at the merest touch. And peach juice is sticky, too.

My jam of choice is of the freezer variety. It preserves the fresh taste of ripe fruit because there's no cooking involved. Nor is there any actually canning. You do need to sanitize your jars and lids, though and that's easily done with the dishwasher. In fact, the one in my kitchen even has a sanitizer setting. While I'm watering, my jars are sanitizing.

The actual jam recipe is so simple--5 cups of mashed raspberries, 2 cups of sugar and 3 tablespoons of pectin. Mash, mix, pour. Let it set for 30 minutes, then store in the freezer. The peach jam requires lemon juice, so the fruit doesn't turn brown. I use fresh lemon juice. I have enough raspberries for a batch so today I get 6 jars of each fruit. Tomorrow I'll add what raspberries ripen today and create a raspberry peach mix.

I guess I did buy a lot of sugar yesterday. My "moon-shine" sugar Todd calls it. I tell him on the phone that he has jam in the freezer. He's one happy Mills man. His family is famous for their Fallon raspberries and the homemade ice cream they used to make. His Mom taught me how to make freezer jam years ago. My favorite family photo of Todd is the one where he's shoving his siblings and cousins away from the ice cream bucket to scoop it all up for himself. He's still a toddler.

Evening Pond Report:

Two nights in a row now, a male mallard visits Elmira Pond. He quacks his arrival. I'm in my office and the quack draws me away from work. Looking out my second story window, I see Blue Heron in the first spot I ever saw him. It's a déjà vu moment, me at the window, discovering birds on Elmira Pond. It has led me to days sitting by roses and under apple trees.

Sticky business, this bird distraction.