Random Thoughts

We're up in the triple digits again; too hot to do much of anything but keep the plants and animals watered.  I literally watered Bessie Anne last evening.  She was following me around as I tended the plants on the deck, flopping down and panting with the heat.  Knowing just how she felt, I hosed her down (thinking that if I didn't have to go down to the barn soon, I'd turn the hose on myself!).  Talk about rejuvenation...she raced about like a puppy, so obviously happy to be cooler.  It is the little things that count.

I miss having people to cook for, hot or not.  I realized yesterday that almost everything I've DVRd on the new receiver is a cooking show, and Julia Child's Kitchen sits right by my chair (I read cookbooks like novels).  I have an entire bookcase devoted solely to cookbooks and folders of clipped recipes.  Whenever anyone says they're coming to visit, dust can lay thick on the furniture while I plan menus.  I love the language of cooking.  Sauce Bearnaise sounds so much more elegant than white sauce.  Fricassee is just fun to say.  When I married at age eighteen, I quite literally couldn't boil water.  (I was also appalled to discover that toilets are not self-cleaning.)  In a very short time I had a family of six with big appetites to feed and it behooved me to learn to cook pretty darned fast.  My utensils from those days are huge; it takes a big pot to cook ten pounds of potatoes.  It was hard to learn to cook for two when the Kids left home, and now one mashed potato is enough for two meals.  I miss having people to cook for.  (For whom to cook...forgive the dangling participle.)

Chicks and Bucks

The light rain yesterday lasted most of the morning.  While it prevented me from mowing any more yards, it's hard to complain about the cooling effects.  It also settled the dust that is the bane of our lives in summer.  I'd feared that if it heated up later on it would be a humid day, but it just stayed cool.  Deb and Craig are coming up today and I got some housecleaning done.  Craig has been on the hunt for more Silkies and found a source in Davis.  Who knows, the girls may have new companions.  The little ones have adapted well to their dog crate home and tuck themselves in at dusk, eagerly awaiting release in the morning. 

Just before going out last evening, I glanced down to the front orchard and saw a beautiful big buck browsing for leaves in the plum trees.  He was a two-point, or forked horn, but his rack was impressive, the antlers at least two feet long, with a wide spread, still in velvet.  The question has arisen in the past, so perhaps I should explain that here on the west coast, only the points (prongs) on one side are counted.  Back east and in Texas, this buck would be considered a four-pointer, as they count all points.  Velvet is the term used for the blood-rich, soft covering that feeds the growing antlers.  This covering later dries and shreds as the horns harden, and the deer rub it off on trees and shrubs, in preparation for the battles they face in rutting season.  I wish it had been light enough to take a photo last night.

The Odd Thought

I surprised myself yesterday morning by figuring out how to remove and clean the J-pipe from under the bathroom sink.  Being on a septic system, one can't use many of the commercial drain cleaners; mustn't kill off the good bacteria.  I was quite pleased that I even remembered to put a bucket underneath first.  Watching all those DIY shows paid off.

Shirt-sleeve weather in the barn, and it occurred to me that the only one who might enjoy a rainy morning is Sheila.  Being the omega of the herd, she has to dart in to snatch a mouthful of alfalfa, dodging the slings and arrows of the older girls.  On a rainy day, they head for the shelter of the oak and Sheila, braving the elements, is left to eat her breakfast in peace. 

Met with the tattoo artist to design my "ink."  Clay and I will go on Wednesday to do the deed. 

It's a good thing I'm not (very) vain about my appearance.  I have an adverse reaction to mosquito bites, swelling up like a toad at the site.  I've been invited to a barbecue today at a nearby ranch.  A couple of days ago I was bitten on the jaw, and now look like a lopsided bulldog.  That will certainly make a great impression.  I suppose I could go topless to draw attention away from my face, but that's probably not a great impression, either.  A glass filled with ice held to the jaw helps reduce the swelling some, and a couple of fingers of good whiskey over the ice helps my attitude.  By the time the ice has melted, who cares? 

One of the buff Orpington hens has "gone broody."  For the past three or four nights, I tuck the hens into their house and then go to the hay barn to gather the free-ranger eggs and there is this little wannabe mama, fluffed out over that day's clutch of eggs.  She gives a sigh of resignation as I pluck her out from between the bales and take her back to the hen house night after night.  I give her points for persistence. 

Gorgeous weather for Memorial Day Weekend.  God bless America and all who serve her.  "All gave some; some gave all."

The Odd Thought

The "R Word" is back...the wind blew in last night and the rain started about four this morning.  Neither the trash truck guy nor I were in any hurry to rendezvous today in the downpour, but we are both responsible people and did that which is expected.  Looks like another day in isolation for Stumpy.  Pearl has been out and back in, demanding, "Fluff me NAOW!"  I'm glad I got the laundry done and dried on the line yesterday.

I've got to get some help, counseling or something, for that distraught bird deserted by Rod-RI-go, before we both go bonkers.  She called incessantly yesterday, adding an "Oh, oh, oh," once in awhile like a swooning Victorian maiden.  She got to realize that it's over, he's gone and he's not coming back. 

The subject of volunteer plants has come up (as do some plants, like it or not).  I once planted New Zealand spinach.  Not good raw, it's pretty good steamed, but once planted, it's nearly impossible to get rid of and comes back year after year.  Tomatillos are another vegetable that you'd best get used to because the seeds must have a half-life of a thousand years.  In addition to varieties of squash, I planted a number of gourds of different kinds.  A niece came for a visit and I ran out to the garden and picked what looked like young zucchini, sauteed it with garlic and fresh herbs, and served it for dinner.  We all ate it, noting that it was a little pithy...stringy, in fact.  Giving it some thought, I realized I'd served the family a luffa sponge from a previous year's seed. 

In the grocery store, goat cheese is sold in five-ounce packets.  I make chevre in two-pound batches.  Eggs are piling up at an alarming rate.  Well, they would, wouldn't they, when I pick up twelve to sixteen a day.  Using odds and ends from the fridge and cupboard last night, I made a corn, cabbage, chevre, onion, and barley "pudding" with lots of fresh thyme from the herb garden and lots of eggs.  It was so darned good!  Tonight I plan to make a sauce with tomatoes frozen from a prior garden and make several baked penne casseroles layered with chevre (like riccotta) to freeze for future dinners.  It's wonderful to have such bounty to use with abandon.