Well, I'm definitely home

And just like that, I'm HOME!

Isn't this how you prepare for a shower? 

Slightly cracked out at 2Amys

"Every sheet in the house and all the kitchen chairs kind of a fort, Mom!" 

Garden goodies

Summer in my yard

Today I want to keep it light. This world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket, so let's take a break and talk about wonderful food, gardens and sweet animals instead, yes?

I am going to tell y'all that even my mad love for gardening has been tested the past two weeks. It "feels like" 107 degrees in DC right now, and really, that is just not right. Yesterday I ventured out to trim, went nuts with my lopping shears until the sweat ran rivers into my eyes. Burning eyeballs urged me inside; I left a huge mound of yard waste strewn in my wake.

This morning, I soldiered out to clean everything up and then had to come in and shower in freezing water to restore my sanity. I like to be hot, but this is too much. No deodorant is any match for this. I'm wearing as little as possible, and I haven't a clue about the next time my hair won't be tied back in a ponytail.

That said, I love my yard. Love that loving it yields flowers and food and so much promise. The birds and squirrels have realized that I refill their feeders at the regular, and the wide variety of feathered and furry beings that come visit on a daily basis makes me very happy.

One little squirrel appears to have a cataract. We have come to a truce, that pip squeak and I. I don't shoo him away anymore, and he doesn't run when I walk outside. He's cute, and the squirrels really are incredibly creative, successful problem solvers. They're pigs but they work for the food they get.

A gorgeous pattypan squash!

The birds range from the tiniest finch to the reddest cardinal, from the cocky blue jays to the dopey-looking doves. They are all beautiful, and each has a different personality. The finches share nicely, some of the larger birds flap their wings dramatically to scare others into fleeing. I always marvel at the color of the female cardinal's beak. If she has to be brown, at least she gets that fiery orange bill.

somewhat blurry because i had to be stealth, but you can a squirrel, cardinal and a finch. That bowl is full of water- do you think anything will jump in or drink from it?

Never before have we had enough sun to really grow tomatoes. Tom has long half-joked that my efforts to grow them in pots our deck made the few I got worth roughly $12 each. Not so, now! We're rolling in i pomodori, and I feel gleeful.

Whole bunch o' toms; cold tomato soup (bottom left); caprese salad (bottom right)

Despite the heat, it is prime canning season, so I'm forging ahead a few days each week to turn summer fruit stars into jars of brightly-hued jam. Strawberries, meet cardamom. Shiro plums, meet basil. Rhubarb, meet bing cherries and hibiscus flowers. Peaches, meet lots of things.

Shiro plums, basil and sugar

The finished product.

No matter how sweaty I get, I'm never sorry I put up jars upon jars of summer's best. Before I know it, Jack will have started 5th grade and Oliver 2nd, the weather will become chilly, and fresh plums and tomatoes will be distant memories. Except on my pantry shelves where the ones I snatched fresh are frozen in time.

The robin that wanted a shower

Our old yard was a shady place, and I became adept at planting things that didn't need much beyond inconsistent mottled light. In stark contrast, the sun beats down on our new property from morning 'til night. This is an absolute joy in terms of what I can plant and what will thrive, but all those hours of unrelenting rays take their toll on both soil and shoot. 

After many hot hours in the front yard yesterday, I pulled the hose over and set about sprinkling everything down, washing away mulch and dust and giving my plant babies a much-needed drink. I arced my arm right to left, left to right, over and over again, noticing the droplets that hung from leaves and those that sparkled like ephemeral diamonds in the air.

A few birds flew by and landed in the crepe myrtle nearest me. They looked hungrily at the wet plume but kept their distance; all except for one, a sweet little robin with trusting eyes. 

Hop, hop, pause. Arc left, arc right. Hop, hop, nearer. A cock of the head, one eye studying me intently.

"Come here, sweet thing. You must be hot. Come have a cool bath. I won't hurt you." I cooed.

Hop, hop, into the spray. 

Y'all, that sweet bird was blissed out, and so was I. It ruffled its feathers, shook its head, danced about in the refreshing mist. Having now held the hose aloft for a fair amount of time, my arm was quivering, but you couldn't have paid me to lower it or release the sprinkler head trigger.

The robin looked at me again before returning to the crepe myrtle and heading on. I smiled and let the hose drop, ready to start cleaning up so I could head in. 

A few minutes later, a little robin with a trusting eye landed on the sidewalk in the same spot as had the first one and looked at me. I'm sure it was the same, returning for a second dip. And so I fired up my hose, flipped the sprinkler head to shower once more, cooed an invitation, and delighted in his jumping in once more.