THE FALL GARDEN

We are relieved to be back at the homestead. Mike said he was glad to have rest from his firewood project, and I’m glad to step into peace and quiet once again. As far as the smoke is concerned (rated unhealthy to hazardous), I’m not sure it’s better here than in town. They say it should begin to clear out today (Friday), but as wildfires continue to burn and the air remains still, I wonder what will make that happen.  

Smoke to the north

I recently read an article about fall gardening. Yes, it can be done, they assure me, and yet, I’ve tried before and failed. As summer comes to a close, signaled by obviously shorter days if not cooler temps, I find myself a bit weary of the water-carrying drill. But – I have a few spinach seeds and a few carrot seeds and maybe I’ll plant them if I can find the space.

A stray beet in the midst of cherry tomatoes

And lack of garden space can be the issue if your summer garden is still producing. That’s my dilemma, especially since I’m allowing the two small pumpkins to rest and mature in my big tire. On the other hand, the cherry tomatoes are still setting on and the zucchini I planted early in August is just beginning to bear, so maybe I actually have a fall garden in spite of myself.

And speaking of zucchini, last month I bought three from Albertsons because I was hungry for my zucchini mélange. Boy! That was the bitterest stuff! This happened once before and I blamed it on the green pepper, but this time I researched to find that yes indeed, zucchini can be bitter, just as cucumbers can be bitter. How disappointing! I wonder if that bitterness comes through in zucchini bread.

Smoke to the south

As I’ve said before, I’m not a good gardener. To me, gardening is a little about skill and a whole lot about luck, especially in this dry place with deer. And in the fall, there are a lot of variables that affect luck. Will the season be long and hot? Or, will there be a sudden freeze that brings it to a halt? The growing season at Gilbert is longer than in Grandma’s day, when freezes could occur in May and again in August. But she had more summer rain.

Oh! And the pears. Every August I would buy a box of pears for drying at our local produce market, but they closed last year. I suppose I could buy a box at a grocery store – or maybe Costco? -- but we have an old pear tree in the back yard, which Mike encourages me to pick. The challenge is to ripen them successfully. I picked a washtub full on Monday (Labor Day) and left them in the fridge. Again, I’m not a pro, and the ripening process seems to be affected by variables, such as when you pick and the temperature and length of storage. Sister Harriet said she tried only once and was forever through with picking pears.

Bess awaits the next adventure

Last Friday (Sept. 1), I took down the hummingbird feeders and put them away. It appeared that we were serving just two hummers, and the storm on Wednesday (Aug. 30) convinced them to move on. KW

FLEXIBILITY

Ready to leave on XT250

I awoke at 6:20 Sunday morning to realize that Mike was still in bed. “You didn’t get up at 5:30 to go hunting?” I asked.

“No, it’s not worth it,” he said, adding that it took four hunting sessions over two days to get one day’s limit. (A limit is now 15 doves.)

“What are we going to do today then?” I asked.

“Go back to town,” he said.

Smoke fills Little Canyon again

Discussion ensued. Somehow I had expected we would return on Monday and was ill-prepared to leave. I needed to water and pack, and since the Silverado was full of wood, we would be unable to take a lot with us. I needed to think things through and organize – probably taking just my laptop and what I could fit in the laundry basket. So, Mike decided to make another trip into the Selway River country on his XT250, delaying our trip to town for a day. He was off by 9:00 and I set to work.

Two pumpkins -- woohoo!

Actually, the day was uneventful for me and the dogs. The highlight (don’t laugh) was the discovery of a second pumpkin in the tire bed. I don’t know how I missed it. It’s about the size of the first pumpkin but isn’t turning orange yet. It remains to be seen if they will mature in this hot weather with limited water. I also spent an hour in the sewing room where I’m making karate uniforms for dolls.

Elderberry bush makes comeback after burn

At 4:00, it was time for the walk. At first, Bess and Nellie seemed to come along willingly, but as we headed down the lane, I sensed some resistance. Both dogs walked right past the apple tree. (Do dogs know whether or not apples are on the ground?) And when we reached the bottom of the lane, Bess said, “I’m not in the mood. It’s too weird without Mike. See ya.” And back to the house she went.

So, that left Nellie and me, and she wasn’t keen to continue either. She moved into June's field and watched me as I hiked up Plank’s Pitch. I felt like saying, “Come on! I’m doing this for you.” I tarried at the top, thinking she might like another soak in Pete’s Pond, but she said if it was all the same to me, she’d rather just go back to the house. And that’s what we did. 

Smoky view from town house on Tuesday

Not long after, Mike arrived home, and all was right in the dog world. And he’d had a brainstorm as he traveled. He remembered the old trailer in the barn. He would load the rest of the wood in it, he said, and it would allow us to take the cooler and my sewing box. Despite my trepidation, that’s what we did, and we made it just fine. KW

AN AFTERNOON WALK WITH NELLIE

We’ve had two dogs for four years. At ten (four years ago), Nellie was slowing down and considering retirement, and Mike needed a more youthful, exuberant hunting companion. It’s just that neither Mike nor I considered the possibility that we would have two dogs for many years. After all, the average lifespan of a Shorthair is ten years.

Nellie really doesn’t want to hunt any more, but when she saw Mike and Bess leaving, she had some feelings about it. She watched out the window and marched around the house. And when they left yesterday afternoon, she’d had enough of waiting. Or, perhaps she remembered that before Bess came, she and I used to walk when Mike was gone.

“Get your visor, Kathy,” she said. “We’re going out.”

I let Nellie take the lead. Sometimes if I suggest the path, she won’t follow. She let me know that she wanted our usual walk – down the lane. At the apple trees, she found one on the ground to munch. As we went along, she visited the various black hawthorn trees for the tasty berries that drop to the ground. 

 

We both huffed and puffed up Plank’s Pitch, and she offered wordless encouragement as I slowed. 

Once we were on the flat, she headed for one of her favorite places – Pete’s Pond. When next I met up with her, she was already enjoying a cooling soak. “Ahh-h-h-h . . .,” she seemed to say. She stayed in that spot for quite a while, finally stretching right out. I didn’t hurry her.

Leaving the pond, she dallied a bit in the field. I was going to wait for her but remembered that she likes some “me” time during the walks. She’s really quite independent, even in old age. So, I set off in the direction of the road, but before I reached it, she passed me. I was pleased with her choice of route for our return to the farmhouse – across June’s field.

And now it was as if she was saying, “You’re on your own. You know the way and so do I. See you there in a few.” I stuck to the path that Mike prepared for us, and Nellie began to explore the field, caught up in her own little world. I watched her for a while, but it was clear she didn’t need me. I headed on back to the yard, and as I expected, she arrived a few minutes later. KW

SUMMER STORM

Taken from the south field

Mike had been anticipating the opening of dove season (September 1), especially since he discovered doves on our property. Dove season will seem promising late in August, but then we get a storm or a cool spell, and the doves leave.

Behind the house

The storm we had here Wednesday evening (Aug. 30) was nothing in comparison to those hurricanes in the south. Perhaps I shouldn’t even mention it, but it kept us busy for half an hour nevertheless. About 5:00, Bess, a creature of habit, insisted we should take our afternoon walk. The day had been smoky, hot, and sultry, and it crossed my mind as we left the yard that perhaps a storm was brewing. As we trudged up Plank’s Pitch, we began to hear distant thunder. Even Nellie can hear a low rumble. Our little party of four moved along together. It was warm enough that we decided to let the dogs refresh themselves in Pete’s Pond. The rumbles were growing closer. In my mind’s eye, I could see brother Chuck sitting on the porch to await the pending storm.

Sun and shadows after the storm

We didn’t dally at the pond. “Shall we go back across the field or on the road,” I asked Mike, and he opined that it would be best to stay to the low ground (the road). I agreed. I thought the storm was coming closer. I guess Nellie thought so, too, because she marched along right at my side, and we picked up the pace. Bess danced on ahead – but not too far ahead.

We could see Little Canyon after the storm

It was still hot and sultry when we reached the farmhouse, but the breeze felt fresh and lovely. Mike suggested that we open the windows. (Why do I let him talk me into these things?) Then he went to take a shower. Just like that the storm hit, and suddenly every part of the house called for my attention. Bess whined to be let in, while the wind shrieked around the corners of the house. I grabbed a towel and started closing windows and mopping up water as fast as I could. The old aluminum screen door on the sunporch was thrown back against the house, bending the rod. I managed to pull it closed though the screen was inadequate to keep the rain out anyway. Water stood on the floor. Once I accomplished damage control, I warmed leftovers in the microwave for supper just in case our electricity should go off. (It didn’t happen.)

We even had a faint rainbow

Through it all, Mike showered on, but to be fair, there was plenty left for him to do. By 6:10, the storm was over. He mopped the sunporch floor, then moved outside to set the garbage can to rights and pick up trash. Our old charcoal grill was blown off its perch on the cistern, breaking the handle, but Mike was able to mend it. The work continued Thursday morning. Mike fixed the bent rod on the screen door and carried tree limbs to the burn pile, while I picked up windfalls under the pear tree.

After the storm, the evening was lovely and I took some pictures. For as much rain as I mopped up in the house, it didn't amount to much. The gardens were bone dry the next day.

Little Canyon is obscured again

The storm cleared the smoke to some extent, but this morning I watched as it crept back in, once again obscuring our view of Little Canyon and the buttes. And the doves? Well, I don’t think there are as many as Mike hoped, but there are some. KW