That Time Of Year

Just as the sound of a bell started Pavlov's dogs salivating, the sound of the grape crushing auger next door at Fleur de Lys Winery gets the goats all excited.  As soon as the gate to the big pen was opened yesterday the girls filed through to get to the fence line, knowing that Robert (Robair) would fork over sweet stems.  It's that time of year. 

I've been noting more and more vultures on the fence posts every morning.  I counted over thirty yesterday, and wondered why the recent influx.  Then it dawned on me, it's September and these magnificent birds are gathering for the annual migration to the Owens Valley.  It usually occurs around the 19th.  With my usual attention to the calendar, I hope I don't miss it.

It is also the time of year when gardens overflow with bounty.  Yesterday Camille invited me down to pick Sun Gold tomatoes, golden little bites of sugar.  She'd also been given an abundance of radishes.  Last night's dinner was crunch and squish and delicious.  I'll save the Anaheim chile for another meal.