Fleeting

Feels like summer is flying past too quickly. Not as fast as the blur of the hummingbird's wings, but wheee, here we go, nearly August!

The blackberries are fat and sweet and plentiful, but the rest of the fruit in the yard is pretty pathetic. Even the quince tree (usually loaded) has only a few for us to pick this year. Maybe by September, a few more will have magically appeared. 

Worst, I suppose, is the plum tree: one plum. At least that was the score last time I checked. Who knows, the squirrel may have decided it looked ripe enough for him. 

Lettuces, basil, tomatoes--hurrah for the die-hards. Even if the freezer won't be filled with berries this year, at least we're still happily enjoying fresh salads. 

And probably best of all, after a couple of months with no hummers in sight, it's great that a pair (at least) seems to have returned. 

There's a moon out tonight

It won't be full until tomorrow, but I'm thinking about it today. Because 55 years ago, many of us were watching tv as men took the first human steps (that we know of) on the moon. 

I remember it seeming almost magical. And of course, there were plenty who poo-pooed it as fake--maybe the first instance of what we now know as 'fake news'. 

It's hard for me to not still look at my friend the moon and think about all those years ago when two of the crew members from Apollo 11 stepped onto a rock out in space, the first off-Earth such a venture. And yes, that still seems quite magical to me.

Fresh from the farm and garden

A long time ago, in 2009, I kept a year-long blog where I posted a photo and a bit of running commentary on whatever it was we were having for supper that night. I called it 'what's fer supper' and it's still online, hanging out wherever these things reside in the ether we've come to call the cloud. 

The photo above isn't supper, but rather a late breakfast, maybe one you'd have to call brunch, though on a Sunday that doesn't seem too out of line. 

The omelet, made from eggs I get from Karen, my 'egg lady' are beautifully farm-fresh. If you look closely, you can see a bit of grass from her hens' nesting materials on that lovely brown egg. 

The potatoes, from the few left over from last night's supper, were a gift from my wonderful neighbour, Anna, whose garden is an urban paradise. 

Filling for the omelet is from our little kitchen garden, just outside the back door. It was time to cut back the arugula, as it was bolting into a zillion little white flowers. A few seconds in the microwave was all it took to wilt the leaves a bit. Along with them, I folded a bunch of the flowers into the eggs as well. Then, since almost everything is better with cheese, a couple shreds of havarti got melted in there as well. 

Not a bad way to kick off a day that's turning out to be one of watching heaps of soccer on tv!

A different sort of caution

It was only the second time in my life that I'd been on Cortes Island, one of the Gulf Islands along the coast here in B.C. 

So I hope I can be forgiven for getting a little bit lost. 

Luckily I noticed pretty quickly that I'd taken a wrong turn off the main road, but what fun to find a sign that made me smile. 

Glad I took the photo. I hope it makes you smile too.