Our butternut squash are coming along nicely. We may have five or six.
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Dinner
Last night we had kohlrabi ‘fries’, sliced baked vegetables – baked potato, chocolate cherry tomato, zucchini, finely diced onion with cheese – and the star, sweet corn bought direct from a farm just outside town. The kohlrabi, zuke, and tomatoes came from our garden. Delicious!
Dahlia in bloom
Morning
Spending a few precious, peaceful moments on the deck.
Our Solar- and Wind-Powered Clothes Dryer
I was about to write that we do not have a dryer. Of course we do! It’s our clothes line. All of our laundry is hung out to dry. While it sometimes would be nice to run things through a dryer – to get dog hair off, or to get the last bit of moisture out of clothes, to name two examples – we do not need one, even in winter. Our clothes get dry, they take much less wear and tear, and of course our hydro bill is far smaller than it would be,
I’m glad we do not live in a community which forbids clothes lines. What an absurd notion that is!
Basking in the sun
Froggy Dog
It’s remarkable to me that at eleven years of age, Kendal can still lay down with his rear legs splayed out like this for a minute, not the ten or more minutes that he sometimes does.
A Boy and His Toy
Kendal with his treat ball.
Harvest
The same wheat field, late yesterday afternoon. Photo was taken with my PlayBook hence the indifferent quality. In addition to these two combines a third was in another part of the same field. Because there was a high likelihood of rain last night many fields were being combined, and that continued late into the evening. Here in my town we had three rounds of thunderstorms. Some farmers were probably working right up to, even into, the first downpour. To a farmer rain is more than the inconvenience it is to an urban dweller, more than even a flooded basement. Too much rain, too little, rain at the wrong time can mean little or no income.
Wheat Field
I am fortunate to live in a small town and to work in a rural area. This wheat field, spread out in the hot baking sun, will be harvested in a few days. Rural life has its own pace and rhythm, slower than the fast sometimes frenzied pace of the city, more in tune with the weather. I am very happy to live the pace.
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