Cat Trap

This is George. This is what happens when one puts cucumbers in a cat trap. 

First Spaghetti Squash of 2015

Ain't she purdy?

This is Home.

A few days ago, I awoke to this scene, akin to something from a Jane Austen novel. The fog was still heavy, the crickets had retired, the morning birds were not yet stirring... Peaceful. Perfectly still. The view from my bedroom window, not unlike every other morning, the same, but with an unmistakable sense of solitude. For I could see no one, nothing beyond the front pasture, and yet everything. As far as my eyes could see, only my garden, my yard, my home. We were together alone, enveloped in a cocoon of mist, insulated from the outside world. This is home.

Today, I learned that my neighbor across the pasture has a bunch (more than a few) mature apple and pear trees, trees that bear fruit of which he has little interest, trees he said I am more than welcome to pick. I told him I would bring baskets and buckets to fill. I do not think he believed me.

P.S. My body is functioning on Mountain Time, since Mr. V had been in New Mexico, this week. As such, this post counts as being for August 1st. No shame.