Ummm...I think we got all the raindrops, thanks.

I think I liked Tuesday night's smell better. Now it's more like mud.

Maybe Wednesday's air-drying turkey vultures were a little ominous. The rain just never stopped.

Yeah, we got that first one covered. This is a five minute walk from where I live.

Things are just fine back on this side of the neighborhood. Work was closed this morning and my street had our usual temporary duck pond, again without ducks.

This is where the screechy racoons usually hang out, but I'm not sure where they are now. Overflow from the parking lot adjacent to the garden has once again given me watery pathways and I'm thinking of looking into aquaculture, but most of the remaining plants are alright. I guess we were just about done anyhow.

The other side of the western boundary of the neighborhood is another story. There are new waterfalls appearing on the eastern slopes of the foothills and they have lead to this.

There's usually no water running through here. It's a bike path that dead-ends in a lot that's being prepared for new construction. Little kids play under the overpass all the time. I didn't even know there was a waterway in the area that could head that way (Silver Lake Ditch, which stretches all the way from our favorite swollen creek).

The businesses and homes over this way have been overwhelmed with water and debris, including some from the storage units over there.

A dentist on the east of the side of the street was using random bits of stuff that had floated over from the storage units to try and divert the water away from his office door. I wished him luck. Jamestown, Four Mile Canyon and many of our other former burn areas are having a rough time. Houses are collapsing, roads are disappearing and people are stranded. Listening to the dispatchers last night was both reassuring and devastating. The National Guard vehicles streamed by for about an hour this afternoon. They're staging at the mini-golf place up the road. The sirens went off for about ten minutes tonight as they asked most of the folks at the mouth of the canyon to get the heck out. Reports of approaching walls of water in the night are scary even when you're high and dry. I wish them all luck and we'll wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Petrichor

We haven't smelled it in a long time. In fact, I can't remember when it last rained around here. But tonight the skies are rumbling and flickering and the cars passing by are making their wet-wheels sounds. We have puddles on reflective streets. I would go out and dance around in it, but I got enough of a soaking on the way home. Rumor has it that this could continue for a few days. There are still a lot of summer stories to tell, but I think we may have turned a corner.

Taking labor day seriously

Some people went camping. Some people went to the beach. Some people took it easy. My Saturday/Sunday/Monday went like this:

Clean up the house a little.
Go ride bike to raspberry-picking place while the sun is hiding.
Pick raspberries in blazing sunshine and (ick) humidity. Enjoy mosquitoes.
Ride home and realize I now have four cups of raspberries to use up, pronto.
Collapse on couch with ice cream and those raspberries that look "squishy."
Start step one in making annoying room-corner moons disappear.
Realize paint in cans is 9, 6 and 5 years old. Get a cup of water. Start thinning.

Wait for paint to dry.

Wash dishes.

More paint.

Make raspberry buttermilk cake.

Eat cake. Sleep.

More paint.

More cake.

Start to make relish for canning. Get as far as "set aside for 4 hours to macerate." Greaaaat.

Real breakfast by noon (yay!)

More paint.

Go out to clean up garden while clouds are present. Clean garden in blazing sun.

More ice cream.

More paint.

Finish cooking relish five hours late and shove it in the fridge for a day when canning does not sound insane.

Watch Doctor Who after swearing at itunes for lack of sound.

Sleep.

More paint (surprise!)

Find two dozen spots just to "touch up" in other rooms.

Leftover breakfast by ten (woohoo!)

Touch up two dozen spots again.

Mulch flower bed. Blazing sun? You bet!

Bring canning stuff up from garage and shove it in a corner.

Bring painting stuff down to garage and hope I never have to use it again.
Drive in wiiiide circle around town collecting plants, tomatoes (because mine were eaten by Bambi), groceries, heavy cat supplies, new cat food tray, new cat rug, new sheets (hmmm, which purchases are cat-based?)
Make gazpacho to save last of pickling cucumbers.
Sit. Try not to let head fall into bowl of gazpacho.
Move 90% of the furniture, mop 90% of house.
Watch fat cat freak out over new cat food tray. Consider it a potential diet regulator.
Stare helplessly at the remainder of the "get this sh*t done" list. Realize scones are not happening tonight.
Get the ice cream and raspberries out...

Next weekend, I'm drinking. Then maybe I'll go camping. 

Turning the day on its head

Thank you brewery just off the bike path that lets me meander safely home past smooth ponds and skittery bunnies. Such a pleasant way to end a Monday that was trying very hard to be a Monday.

The most wonderful time of the year

I disagree strongly with whatever Andy Williams was singing about. Late summer is the time for me. In what other season can you start and end your day with fresh strawberry shortcake and throw a few ears of this in between?



And now is when the local wildlife really get hopping. Who knew that the deer twins sound like bleating goats as they wander past my house at two in the morning? Now I do. A hummingbird finally deigned to pay a visit to the feeder that has been ignored for years at a time and then, when I was deadheading cosmos in the garden, one swooped down past my head to get to this:

I knew I saved those tithonia seeds for something. And only in August can I drive to my favorite dark spot north of town to lay on the hood of my car at 12:30 on a Monday morning so that I can stare at the Perseids as we glide through them. Plus, there's three ingredient popsicles to revive you after a ride home in the late-day sun, and tiny toads that magically appear in the garden without warning.

And if you can wake up to these (because you remembered to cut them the night before), your day's bound to be OK.

No filter

Because sometimes you just don't need to.

How to solve a problem like swiss chard

The evening bouquet. They are longer than my arm.

Are the veg drawers in your fridge bursting with greenery? Have you run out of plastic bags to stuff the day's harvest into? Do you chase your neighbors waving giant fans of produce?

If you answered no to all of the above, count your blessings. I only planted seeds in three holes, I swear. Of course, this is chard and every seed can result in three to five seedlings. And did. My bad.

Fortunately I still have the chard enchilada recipe that we got with a CSA pickup eons ago. I can cram five or six leaves in, feel like I'm making a healthy meal and then, pulling one aside for dinner, throw the rest into the freezer to revisit on a cold, January night when there's no fresh veg in sight. Mission accomplished! I've also taken a liking to these corn tacos and substituting chard for spinach in eggs florentine. Got to use this stuff up!

Chard Enchiladas
serves 4-6, depending on hunger levels

2 tbsp cooking oil of your choice
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1 cup corn kernels (fresh or frozen and thawed)
4 cups coarsely chopped chard leaves, main stalks chopped and kept separate

Cream sauce ingredient amounts vary depending on how gooey to like your filling
1 tbsp unsalted butter (or more)
1 tbsp flour (or more, just keep the butter:flour ratio equal)
1/2 - 1 cup milk
2/3 cup grated cheddar or monterey jack

6 large flour tortillas
about 1 cup enchilada sauce (I just started using this chile sauce and love it. Burns, but I still love it.)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Heat oil in large skillet  over medium heat and saute garlic, onion and chard stems till onion is lightly golden. Add corn and stir frequently till cooked, about three minutes.
Start adding chard leaves in small amounts, allowing them to cook down a little before adding the next batch. Add salt and pepper to taste and remove from heat.

To make the cream sauce, melt the butter in a medium sauce pan over low heat and stir in the flour till well mixed. Add milk and stir frequently till it thickens. Add the cheese and keep stirring to distribute evenly. Mix the creamy cheese sauce into the pan of greens and stir well.

Fill the tortillas and lay them into a lightly oiled or parchment-lined 9 by 13 inch pan. Pour the enchilada sauce over and bake for 25 minutes or until the tortilla edges are crisp.

Eat now or wait till the snow falls. Plan on thinning the chard patch next year.