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SIMPLY SPLENDID SUMMER SUPPER:

1. Rapidly say that title five times in a row. Now have another glass of wine.

2. If you, yourself, don't have a garden, look around for someone who does, preferably a family member who has planted it right on your property, so that you are able to have your kitchen well-stocked with all the necessary ingredients ahead of time and you've gotten them washed and spiffed up for cooking. Otherwise, it might take you longer than the five minutes it took me to prepare this dish tonight.

2. Put a tablespoon or two of oil in a skillet, get a tissue and prepare to cry.


3. Slice an onion--or two. Or three. Depends how big your skillet, your supper crowd, your desired ratio of onion to other splendid ingredients, your appetite, your imagination, your ego (oops, sorry, I'm getting carried away).



4. Even if you don't know beans about cooking, believe me, you can still serve up this splendid supper. Did I say beans? That would be GREEN ones. Pile them on!





5. Chop up some freshly-dug potatoes. And then, (I feel a bit foolish saying this, I mean, I know you're not a complete nincompoop; I highly suspect each one of you, dear readers, knows exactly what comes next, if not, in fact, all that came before as well, but I'll just say it anyway to be sure all is clear)---add them.




6. If you have it, top the whole pile with a piece of pork--preferably ham or pre-cooked bacon (only if you have it, of course. Don't run around looking for someone with a pig)



7. Add some water and a tight lid. Turn the heat to low.

8. G0 back to the hammock*.





9. Twenty minutes or a half-hour later when everything is tender, you can tenderly serve it to yourself and those you love.









10. OPTIONAL (but highly recommended)-- Have this for dessert:

















*Final note: I couldn't bear to say this while you were lolling in the hammock, but you really should check the water level in the skillet several times...it's disaster if you let it simmer dry. Just a few times--add at least a half-inch of water and turn it low. Okay, that's all. You can relax.


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IF THERE WERE TO BE A PRIZE FOR THE most stunningly beautiful vegetable, I should think that the beet would win, hands down (purple hands, that would be).



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I SNUCK OUT OF THE AREA for a couple of days last week, down to the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, a great place to be when the fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high. Though I didn't see those particular signs of summer, I did see a lot of cool blue mountains. It was so good to see those mountains again, as I hadn't caught a glimpse of them for far too many years and they seem to take up space in the nostalgic part of my used-to-be.





The thing is, I also have a dear aunt who lives there and she, too, I hadn't seen for far too long, even missing the grand celebration when she entered her tenth decade. Which is why, when a sister-in-law of mine who is visiting from Olympia, Washington, informed me that she was taking her mother (who happens to be my cute little mother-in-law) to visit her mother's sister (my sister-in-law's aunt, of course) I quickly asked to hitch a ride; though, truth be told, in the end they hitched a ride with me.


As if there weren't enough relative-visiting to be had in this place already, I could not miss seeing the one relative I've known longer than any other. We spent time in very close quarters long before we saw the light of day. And ever since I took a look at the world and hollered for him to follow me, we've been pretty good friends, my twin and I. So now you see, I had him and the three other relatives with whom he hooked me up (sis-in-law, nephew, niece) to visit while there. To them, I had "Thanks for the bed-the walk after dark-the trek to the farmer's market," to say among other things.




So. if you haven't gotten the idea already, I can tell you that in the two days of visiting, I was racing around each day--from my brother's place to my Aunt Osie's place, to the house of my mother-in-law's sister. Not to mention little jaunts with each and every one of these dear family ones.






And I was getting flashbacks to previous periods of my life--to a time when I would come to this area as a child to visit my big sis Shishe, four hours from home in a private high school dorm. My parents would get us a room at Marvilla Motel--the most modern accommodations in town, and we, their four other kids, would bed down in roll-away cots and sleeping bags on the floor. What a novel experience to retire for the night, street light seeping in through the pulled draperies, and listen to trucks shifting through their gears on the highway past the motel.



I looked carefully to see if this lodging place still existed, and there it was! I spotted it in its worse-for-wear condition and stifled the urge to go inside and ask to see a room. After all, it's now...dear me...the Budget Inn.

And then I drove right past another establishment that was a fixture during my time as a college student in this area. It appears the years have been kinder to Jess' Lunch than to the old Marvilla, but I'll bet there are no longer hot-dogs to be had for 25-cents.





Of course, one fine old structure on the city square I did not doubt I'd see. Surely it will last as long as I keep going back to have a look.







It's interesting to see these buildings again, but it's those blue mountains that make me go a little crazy with the camera.


Especially when I'm heading up the road and a summer rain is rolling in over them.


I had to keep swerving off the main route and driving up strangers' driveways to get the lofty views (much to the trepidation of my traveling companion at the time--I won't name names--who thought she was going to die.

You see, these were very steep driveways, yes.







And surely the brakes might fail as she sat in the car.
While I merrily snapped my photos,


she'd go careening down, down in the runaway car. Wouldn't THAT have made a sorry picture!)
But all's well that ends well, so they say.


And just look how well this post ended--with that colorful arch in the sky!



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WHILE I CANNOT IMAGINE complaining about the weather we've been having--it's exactly what I would order if one were allowed to fill out a little form each evening with the next day's preferred conditions: 82.2 degrees at 4:00 pm. Clear with high scattered clouds. Low humidity. Slight breeze--it does leave my flowers a bit thirsty.


Today's one more day of sunshine prompted me to unreel the garden hose and give the dry flowerbeds some faux rain. It should tide them over until a thunderstorm happens to scatter itself right here tonight. While I was outdoors, I got you an update on the poultry,


with a picture that provides a small update on the garden, as well. You must realize that my daughter wouldn't be pitching fresh garden produce to the chickens were it not at this point in the what-on-earth-will-we-do-with-all-this-abundance-of-monstrous-green-vegetables stage.

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I HAVE A DAUGHTER who completes her third decade of life tomorrow. Hers is a life that began at 1:23 pm on a Friday the thirteenth. While it wasn't the 7:09 pm (am would have worked as well) on 7-9-79 with a weight of 7 lbs, 9 oz I was secretly anticipating, the thrill of hearing the words "You have a daughter!" was more than enough to compensate for any and every variation.

As I labored away in the birthing room of the hospital, I focused intently on a peace lily plant which sat nearby on a table. If things don't get any worse than this, I thought, I'll be okay. I studied the flower and the form of the lily. Of course the pains intensified. Well, just so long as they don't get any worse than this, everything will be alright. They got worse, indeed. But still I focused on the lily. Okay, this...this I think I can take. Just please, please...no more than this.   Ultimately, after the pain grew, oh, wildly worse,  out slipped my lovely baby.

I forgot about the pain. I forgot about the lily.


Later I discovered, all unawares, we'd actually named our daughter Lily (It's the Hebrew meaning of her name.  Close enough!)  I got my fascinating coincidence without those nines and sevens!






This evening we celebrated the three decades, the thirty years, the birthday (Fruit pizza being the traditional stand-in for this particular birthday cake) And, we celebrated the fact that my daughter will be celebrating a birthing day of her own come November!

Hmm...perhaps 11-09-09 or 11-11-09.  At 11:09, of course.

Happy Birthday, dear Suzy-Q!

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