Vineyard Gardener
How many ways can a person prepare and enjoy summer squash and zucchini? I don’t know the answer but am seriously working on it. Last night I sautéed some squash and onions and served it over red quinoa with Bragg’s liquid amines. I felt as if I’d been transported back to the sixties. There were years of brown rice and vegetables. Sometime in the eighties I stopped eating rice so much. Because of gardening and growing my own food, rice no longer appealed to me.
The drop in humidity last weekend was a much-needed and welcome change. It made me long for the crisp air of fall.
It’s hard to believe another year has gone by and we are at the Agricultural Fair. This week always seems like the true end to summer — the last big push of activities, traffic and visitors before back-to-school shopping. Since I write this on Monday morning, I have only seen the beginning of fair preparations. The “carnies” have set up camp, the rides are not yet set up — they are still neatly folded on their tracks, and the locals are putting together the booths.
No more Mrs. Nice Guy! I have had it with the voles in my vegetable garden. I have tried several deterrents for the little pests. Nothing has worked. The last straw has been finding every single paste tomato with at least one bite in it.
I marched myself down to the Animal Shelter and was fortunate to find two barn cats. They want to live outdoors and hunt small rodents. It was a match made in heaven. If you want a dog or cat in good health to fit your individual needs, the Animal Shelter at Pennywise Path is the place for you.
Last Saturday night’s rain made me completely happy. It was a serious downpour. Sunday morning was refreshing with all the green world at peace once again. No amount of irrigation can equal a nice rain. It’s remarkable how quickly the lawns bounce back. Some were so dry it felt like walking across potato chips.
I needed to be talked down from the cliff several times this week. Between the vole damage in my vegetable garden and the replacement of dried and dead annuals at the job sites, I saw the entire summer as futile.