Out Early in the Garden

On these hot days, it's good to get outside by seven or earlier to get the watering done before the sun burns off the morning mist.

It's a good time to pick tomatoes and cucumbers and beans -- and that early light is good for taking pictures.

The bees are at work too.

The tomatoes are afflicted by blight -- I've been removing the affected leaves which is whay the plants look so minimalist.

I'm somewhat schizophrenic in the garden -- pulling weeds, picking tomatoes . . . and then light illumines the graceful curve of a blade of corn and I have to go get my camera.

Sunflowers for the house -- I'm tempted to pick some crepe myrtle but I know how bad it sheds...I'll enjoy it on the tree.

A load of weeds and worm-infested broccoli for the biddies.

And the sunlight transforms a simple Rose of Sharon.

Time to Make the Pesto . . .

Basil Pesto

A much better  way to deal with an abundance of basil in the garden than trying to dry it. This keeps at least a year in the freezer – and for months in the refrigerator. Pine nuts are traditional but usually rather expensive and sometimes a bit rancid as they have a short shelf life. I like almonds.

 

 3 packed cups fresh basil leaves (no stems)
1 cup packed fresh parsley leaves (can substitute more basil if you prefer)
4 larges cloves fresh (peeled) garlic (not elephant garlic; it’s too mild)
¾ cup grated parmesan (or romano or asiago)
½ c. pine nuts, walnuts, raw, unblanched almonds, or hulled sunflower seeds (or any combination thereof
salt to taste, or none at all
¾ c. olive oil (extra-virgin, if you want to be really fancy, but any pure olive oil will do just fine)

Put all ingredients into a blender or a food processor. The food processor will quickly produce a smooth paste – the blender will require a little coaxing and stopping and starting and rearranging the contents with a spatula before the paste is achieved. 

In fact, dealing with vast quantities of fresh basil every summer is what finally convinced me I needed a food processor.

Put finished pesto in half pint jelly jars and store in the freezer.

 

Add a can or two of clams and maybe a bit of chopped garlic and top with more Parmesan and you've got some nice white clam spaghetti -- an easy meal after all that slaving over a hot food processor. I served sauteed squash, onions and snow peas on the side.

Hot! Hot! Hot! So . . .

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Ahhh. . . .I feel cooler already. . . 

Airing

Making up the bed has always been the first thing I do in the morning. "There, that's done," and I can proceed on to laundry, bird feeders, dog cookies, refilling cat food bowls. a handful of pellets for the goldfish, picking mint and brewing tea, coffee, Internet news, and breakfast, more or less in that order. 

 One day a week  I generally change the sheets and on that day, if the weather cooperates, I air the pillows, something I remember my grandmother doing. They smell of sunshine when I lie down that night.

Now  The Wartime Housewife  suggests that it might be a good idea to air the bed every day. Having seen pictures of the various dust mite and other microscopic critters that can lurk in bedding, I'm thinking, why not? I remember traveling in Europe and seeing duvets hanging out windows in the mornings. 

So I'm breaking the habit of a lifetime and leaving the bed to air. But, silly though it may seem, I still go make it back up in the afternoon. Of course, one could be like Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis who, I've read, insisted on having fresh sheets twice a day -- after a night's sleep and after her afternoon nap.  

The rich are different . . .

Wordless Wildacres

Wildacres Writing Retreat - 2011

A poet lays a poem by my breakfast plate . . . a student’s reading moves me to tears . . . my class erupts in laughter at what is now a shared joke . . . a farm bell summons us to classes and meals… and always there is the beauty of the wooded campus and the pleasure of being surrounded by like minds -- others whose joy it is to play with words.

Faculty like Ron Rash and Phebe Davis. . .

Beautiful surroundings in which to socialize. . . or be alone with your hula hoops. . .

 

A faculty room much more interesting than the one you remember from high school . . .

Somebody else doing the cooking . . .

High atop the Blue Ridge Mountains, just off the Parkway . . . they call it the magic mountain.

I taught Commercial Fiction -- a grueling two hours a day with one day off. Back in June, each of the campers workshop participants  submitted about fifteen pages of their work in progress and all of us gave these pages our closest attention. During class, we discussed these pages, praising what we thought were the strengths and (gently) pointing out the weaknesses and suggesting ways to fix these problems.


We were dealing with all sorts of popular fiction -- thriller, sci-fi, chick lit, women's fiction, mystery, relationship stories -- and I was impressed with the level of writing and with the excellent critiques that emerged from our combined wisdom.

When the campers writers weren't in class, they were free to sit in on other classes, goof off, sight see, write, sleep . . .

 A lot of time was spent just hanging out. . .

There were faculty readings and student readings . . .  but it wasn't all work; there was considerable silliness.

Hollywood Night brought out some amazing characters. . . 
many of whom, I'd thought deceased. . .

 
Michael Jackson made an appearance --

Groucho and Harpo  looked on . . . and Marilyn was ravishing. . .

But wait! There's more! The final night was given over to skits and many an inside joke . . . The Gong Show is a yearly tradition and there's a whole room full of costumes, wigs, and props of various ilks.

A week at Wildacres Writing Workshop is an opportunity to hone one’s craft, to delight in the art of others, to sit at table with strangers who quickly become friends.

A little like summer camp with the bells, the communal meals, the skits, and the dress up night . . .

A little like beach week with the sense of having escaped from care and the jello shots, loud music, and dancing on the patio till the wee hours . . .

   And a little like Shangri-la, a place apart where wisdom can be found -- the Wildacres experience is probably slightly different for each attendee.

I highly recommend it.