Summer flowers and feasts...

In summertime we tend to cook most of our evening meals outside on the grill. Chicken, beef, lamb, pork and fish all make their way to the Weber, with a side dish of vegetables. Suppers are quick, easy and delicious, the flavor enhanced by eating outside and admiring the livestock.

Last night we were invited to eat with Scott and Marion.  It had been a hot day, but there was a lovely breeze cooling the air as I got a tour of their beautiful vegetable garden and sipped a glass of cold wine. The guys did a little target practice, I admired the neat rows of vegetables interspersed with bright flowers,

and a handsome Monarch Caterpillar enjoying a butterfly bush.

After we all visited a while,  Marion went in to assemble the feast.

Home made fettuccine waited to be tossed into boiling water.

Herbs and vegetables from their garden, and a bowl of pasture raised chicken they also grew was ready to be mixed up with butter and cream for a marvelous Alfredo.

Home made focaccia bread accompanied the meal, and a beautiful salad, all of the ingredients fresh picked from the garden. Every bite a treat. As much as I enjoy our simple summer back yard suppers, it was a delight to savor this special meal with our friends.

My summer flower beds are looking nice. Scarlet Runner Beans are scrambling up the arbor, and the hummingbirds find them delicious.

This begonia was a gift from a friend, the little metal dove that is tucked in with it was another sweet present.

The  garden beds are full of day lilies, cone flowers, Queen Anne's Lace, roses, zinnia, snapdragons, and Cosmo blossoms.  

I woke to a good down pour of rain this morning, a welcome sight and sound. Now the skies are clearing and temperature climbing. I have much to do and need to get moving before the heat squelches my ambitions.

Conner luck...

In our family we joke about what we happily call "the Conner luck." It's finding an empty parking space in front of the busy restaurant you are going to, having all your flights arrive and depart on time when traveling, catching the item you were wanting to buy at a crazy one-day-only discount.
It's a lovely thing, this luck, and we are grateful when it happens. But perhaps, never more grateful than last night.

After a long day working, we had company over for supper. Chris grilled up some grass-fed steaks, and we had the first fresh corn on the cob of the season.There was delicious bread from the farmers market, and icy cold drinks enjoyed around the picnic table in the back yard. Despite being tired from a busy week, we had a jolly visit. When the mosquitoes began to bother, we came inside and got the dishes started.  It was nearly dark when I poured myself a glass of wine and sat down in my favorite spot. Chris found an entertaining television show for us to watch, and we relaxed for a couple hours before heading up to bed.

The last thing I do in the evening is let the dogs out for a final potty break. Knowing they have a cookie waiting, they run out, do what they must, and hustle back inside. But last night Bravo let out a fierce roar, "Intruder, intruder!" he barked.  Flirt chimed in, shrill and serious. At that very instant the unmistakable scent of skunk wafted in through the open windows.

(photo Harpswell Heritage Land Trust) 

With my heart sinking, I rushed to the door and called the dogs. Flirt came right away, but Bravo did not. I grabbed my big flash light and hurried down the long deck that leads to the yard.  Bravo was there, sniffing something with great interest.  He came when I called him, wagging happily. I had him sit then lifted his handsome head so I could smell him. The humid evening air hung so thick with skunk scent that at first I couldn't tell if he had been perfumed or not. Chris came out, "Did he get hit?" he asked.  "I can't tell, will you smell him?"  Leaning down, he inhaled deeply. "He's good!"  So good. Such excellent dogs. A very close skunk encounter, but neither needed a midnight shampoo.

Chris often quips that we are "richly and truly blessed." This was luck and blessings at their finest.

Good days and bad mothers...

It's been a dry summer so far, but we had a heavy downpour yesterday afternoon, complete with thunder and lots of lightning. I like a good storm, but poor Bravo does not. He shivers and quakes, slinks and hides, pants and shakes. It's pitiful. The storm happened right at milking time. Goats very much dislike going out in the rain, and in order to milk them I have to go fetch them from their cozy, get them through the pasture gate and across the back yard to the garage where I have a little milking area set up. I figured my chance of doing this in the middle of a violet storm without anyone getting hurt or upset was slim, so while dark clouds layered over the house, hurtling sheets of noisy rain against the window glass, I fixed a little supper and bided my time. With my little donkey cam working, I was able to see that the goats were resting, chewing their cuds, looking out at the storm.

Once things calmed down I invited them in for some supper. Bliss' udder was impressive.

I know she feels better after I milk her, but she does not make it easy. She kicks and bucks and throws tantrums, despite the bucket of good food I park in front of her face. Seriously bratty behavior.

While we are on bad behavior, let me tell you about the worst mothers of the year. I have had 4 hens sitting on eggs. One hatched three chicks, and they are doing well. The others have had chicks hatch, but they keep dying. Every day I find a dead chick or two, and it's depressing. Today I nipped out to check on the chicks and make sure they had food and water, and found an newly hatched chick, injured an alone lying in a pile of shavings. I had the brilliant idea that I should tuck it up under a broody hen so she could mother it. As I did, the hen snatched the chick from my grasp and tried to kill it. I spoke firmly to the hen, (actually, I snatched her off her nest and gave her a good shake,) and tucked the chick in my pocket. I realized that these broody hens are lacking any mothering instinct and decided I had to take action before any more chicks were hurt or killed. I gave it some thought while I treated the injured chicks wounds, gave it a drink of water, and tucked it into a warm space. Then I got an idea. I called the woman who bought the other chicks I sold last week. She had mentioned that she had an incubator. I offered her the eggs, each on the brink of hatching, and the injured chick. She's a veterinary technician and has lots of experience nursing chickens. She came right over.By the time she arrived another chick had hatched and been injured. We packed up the eggs and chicks and off she went. Crisis averted. I won't let any more of those horrible mothers try to hatch any babies. It is way too sad. .

Click saw me stomping back from the coop in bad humor. He flopped down on the deck step in front of me, asking for a belly rub. He's impossible to resist.

During the height of summer we are already looking towards fall and the long cold months to come. We have one trailer load of hay neatly stacked in the garage, and another coming tonight. Two cords of good split oak are piled on the side lawn. These things make me feel rich. 

All day Rachel and I groom dogs and cats in the pretty studio. We have been busier than ever this summer, and have had to stop taking new dogs. We have been opening early and working late, trying to fit everyone in. 

Despite the bad mothers and overly full udders, these summer days are long and full and good. I am so lucky to be here on this farmlette.

4th of July...

This year Independence Day was quite tame. We cleaned up the garage a bit, getting ready for this years hay delivery.

We cleaned all the animal houses, and cooked a tasty supper to share with Rachel, Evans and friends Scott and Marion. I baked focaccia bread and made a new vegetable salad recipe. Chris grilled chicken. Marion brought their zesty home made salsa and a pretty garden salad that was decorated with little edible purple flowers, all of which grew at her own farm. Rachel and Evans made us S'mores for dessert. There were fireworks from two different nearby places after dark settled, so we sat by the fire ring and watched to the left and right of the house to see very respectable displays. Poor Bravo hates the explosions. I gave him soothing medicine but he refused to come outside. Instead he parked himself under the dining room window, as close to us as he could be, but still "safe" inside.

 We have had more eventful July 4 weekends. Chris and I met in '83 on 4th of July weekend. Those fireworks were real! Here we are last month, in front of the building where we met that fateful holiday.

This weekend in '88, while living in Massachusetts, we discovered that baby would soon make three. 

Independence Day '89 found us with an infant and our every worldly possession moving to our first house in Memphis. Memphis Independence Day's were a lot of fun. A group of our Mayflower Avenue neighbors would all gather, each bringing a favorite dish to share. Many of us had little kids, some had grand kids. We would set little wading pools up in a variety of front yards up and down the street, and grill out. The adults would gather in the shadiest yard, because it was always incredibly hot. A gang of happy children would race from yard to yard, hopping from pool to pool. Most years we would end the day sitting on the bank of the Mississippi River, watching epic fireworks displays from a barge out on the water, while patriotic music floated through the soupy air from the symphony.

In '03 for the 4th we reversed routes and headed north to move to Maine, which has been a happier chapter than we could have ever imagined. 

It's all been rather serendipitous, but I know that I take an extra moment or two on this particular holiday, while I watch pyrotechnics light up the sky,  to count my many blessings. We have so much to celebrate.