What I did last weekend

Watched Momma make pizza from scratch - ah summer Friday evenings are back!

Enjoying the special pizza (crust, organic tomatoes and olive oil) Momma made me...

Making a splash at the local pool Saturday morning. I didn't want to leave...

Jumping and chillin' on the shady porch, while Momma cleans the floors Saturday afternoon (I supervised)...

Look Momma!

Look Momma!
No hands

















They grow up so quick. I believe it now!

Summer love

It's far too fabulous and appealing a season to not love.

To dislike summer is like pinching kittens and kicking puppy dogs.

I would be deeply suspicious of anyone who tells me they don't like summer. What, I would think to myself, is your problem? Too many turtlenecks in the closet? Afraid of a bit of prespiration?

Here in North Carolina, summer is an in-your-face proposition. You step outside and it assaults you head-on with scalding, steamy prowess. Within seconds you are drenched either with your own prespiration or the gallon of moisture that seems to be suspended in the air around you. To stay matte and cool requires disciplined ducking between car A/C, shady trees and air-conditioned stores and homes.

I run in the early morning. As a profuse sweater even in drier climate, running any later than 8 a.m. here would be indecent. Yesterday I ran by our Hardware store's electronic temperature sign at 7:20 a.m.

It was 77 degrees.

My shoes and socks and cap are soaked and have to be carefully set out to dry for the next day's run.

The forecast calls for low to mid-90s for the rest of the weekend. In these temperatures even a leisurely ride to the office has to be followed by a sponge bath in the office sink. That's when I'm grateful Gus is my only co-worker, he doesn't mind my sloppy semi-nude appearance. My mind wanders back to last summer when my pregnancy belly prompted everyone to compliment me on my glow - this summer, I'm just the sweaty, frizzy-haired Mommie of an almost 9 month old, wondering how much hairspray and powder it would take to look like the very put-together lady in front of me at the bakery. Wet curls only look good on Gus - not me.

But then there are the lighting bugs' sparkling dances at dusk, the balmy evenings, the shady swimming holes in the forest, the endless chorus of the cicadas, the abundance of shockingly beautiful flower beds around town, the soothing whir of our ceiling fans at night and the utterly peaceful feeling that embraces me when I sit down on our porch in the afternoon, with a glass of ice tea in my hand. Finally the light breeze makes the sweat on my arms feel good.

I miss Colorado in the winter. I love the Southeast in the summer.

Gardener's thumb down

It seemed way to easy to be true - our six tomato plants took to the ground in our backyard and diligently began bearing fruit...we couldn't believe our good fortune...given our less than lackluster veggie growing performance last year...I should have been more cautious before falling in love (and fantasizing about all the delicious ways to eat tomatoes) with my prissy water-loving little green friends out back...

Sure enough the carnage is upon us. Some mysterious disease is claiming one after the other, picking a new one in a capriciously cruel fashion almost every other day. First the third from the left went limp overnight last weekend and didn't ever recover, then the second from the right started looking sad, before going completely flacid yesterday. No sign of parasite, no mildew, no eating holes, no discoloration...just hanging branches and rolled up leaves...and yes, I did water them every day.

After a little reading on the Internet, I decided to harvest the green fruit (recipe for fried green tomatoes anyone?) then pull both of the infected plants up. I didn't even dare to throw them on the compost heap...instead they went into the trash...how sad.

Now a third one looks like it will give up its will to live sometime today...I'm profoundly saddened by it all. I know gardening is a life lesson and that me and my greedy stomach don't call the shots...but it does feel like the perpetual tease. Every time I toil in the ground...seeds turn into eager little seedlings, seedlings turn into mature plants bearing tempting fruit...then something comes along and either eats it or fouls it up some other way. Can you tell I'm a wee bit bitter?

Here I am in the midst of a flora and fauna so teeming with energy. Everything buzzes and you can practically hear things grow in the steamy heat of Western North Carolina...people trade in salad greens and strawberries, only I can't grow a thing fit to eat...poor me.

It's the seasonal curse for me. I'm going to mop around my flowers now, go to the farmer's market, instead and hold out some hope that my two Cherry Tomato plants are resistant to whatever is eating up my big tomatoes - oh, and I just found out that my compost heap is home to about a thousand potato shoots, a zucchini and what we tentatively have identified as a water melon - all without me even trying...maybe that's the lesson?

RIP my darling little tomato plants. I'm mourning you every time I look at the window sill.

The many faces of Gus

Contemplative
with Ukulele,
his FAVORITE
toy of the moment...

Wanting to HELP
his Daddy
mow the lawn ...

Guitar Hero!

Look what Uncle Will brought Gus (who's been "playing" everything from the radio to Daddy's no-no banjo) A Ukulele all the way from Hawaii! Gus was so excited he lost all expression for a moment...but no worries he is plenty relaxed as I type this...rocking out on his new instrument...he sings, too....

Hmm, hmm, mmm...

He is half a Southern-born boy, after all. He does love a good watermelon.