It is time for my annual Tomato Bragging Post.
Yes, I know that all of you who grow hundreds of tomatoes every year think that this is pathetic but I don’t care.
I have two pots. A fully grown, ripe tomato is a victory!!
This year Wal Mart was out of cherry tomato plants, so I had to settle for an “Early Girl” tomato plant and a “Roma” plant.
The Roma won the coveted blog-post spot.
I also grew mint, basil and parsley.
It’s all I can handle.
Banjo Man wanted to hike into his cabin for his birthday. So we packed a picnic lunch and, after piling into Sarge’s 4-Runner, we set off up the mountain with our son, daughter-in-law and grandson.
Our grandson was thrilled because (a) he did not have to use his car seat, (b) he counted 14 “No hunting without permission” signs, (c) he had never been on a mountain before, and (d) there was a possibility that he would see a bear.
He did not see a bear. I told them they were way up high on the mountains picking huckleberries.
This is true.
Banjo Man was ecstatic because (a) he was at his cabin in the woods, (b) there was lunch and plenty of it, (c) he could show his grandson his land, and (d) there were no bears.
It’s good to be home.
Discussing how to build a fort.
Lunch on the porch.
Checking out Uncle Sarge’s May campfire.
Just another afternoon in paradise.
Checking out the woods and an old road.
“Grandpa, can we spend the night here?”
Part 2 of Banjo Man’s birthday included a trip to town and a fancy birthday dinner at Trinity on the lake, serenaded by Retired Mountain Lady’s band “Running With Scissors”, along with Dancing Mandolin Player and her Boyfriend Bob.
From morning to night, no one was happier than Banjo Man.
Which is the way birthdays should be.
A few weeks ago we had a visit from what we thought was a hawk, but turned out to be a juvenile eagle.
Who, sadly, had a broken wing.
Calls to wildlife rescue organizations were futile. He stayed in our front yard, hopping and low-flying from rock to rock, all afternoon and evening. A few days later he shocked a neighbor by dropping down in front of his truck, then scooting off into the woods.
There is an eagles’ nest near us. We watch them fish, flying over the lake and dipping down into the water to snatch their dinner. We used to have ospreys as neighbors, too, but the tree where they nested for years was blown down in last year’s powerful summer storm.
I don’t want to think about what happened to this young eagle. Nature is cruel, I know. It’s just that when I watch the eagles soar and swoop over the lake I feel comforted.
Because of all of the crazy, horrible, evil things happening in the world, at least there are still eagles doing what they have always done here at the lake.
And I am lucky enough to get to watch.
My daughter-in-law warned me: He wants to learn how to make jam.
Huh?
It seems my four-year old grandson had seen a cooking show on television where a woman made jam and he had been totally, completely fascinated. His mother told him that Grandma More Pie made jam and that was all he needed to hear.
I think he told quite a few Texans that he was going to Idaho to make peach jam. In fact, he told me that shortly after we picked him up at the airport. I promised him that we would indeed do that.
No one has ever asked me how to make jam before. That’s what grandchildren are for, I suppose. To ask you questions and make you feel old and wise.
I told him that scooping out the sugar by cupfuls was just like digging dirt. He liked that.
He liked stirring.
And he loved the magnetic stick that pulled the hot jar rings and lids out of the boiling water.
We didn’t make peach jam–I had 2 quarts of processed apricots in the freezer–but he didn’t know the difference. He was cooking jam and that was all that mattered.
We listened for the satisfying “pop” each jar made when it sealed. We high-fived each other for a job well done.
He ate his own jam on his toast every single morning.
And he took all 8 jars–wrapped carefully in bubble wrap– home for his peanut butter sandwiches and for gifts.
He also did a different kind of jammin’, but that’s another story….
Here is my 4 year old grandson surveying the lake for the first time. He’d arrived fifteen minutes earlier. After a very long ride (2+ hours) from the airport–and after a very early flight from his home in Texas–he and his parents were very, very happy to be here.
But he was the only one who, after a quick glance at the house and his new Star Wars quilt, stripped naked in the kitchen and demanded his swim trunks and water sandals.
He hustled down the hill and right into the lake. And to think we’d wondered if he would be afraid of the water….
Summer update, without photos:
We’ve had a heat wave, but I think it’s over. We had a break from the heat, but then again…it might be back. I am not complaining. I like it.
Because this was only five months ago and I remember it!!!
I will not complain about warm summer weather!!!
I planted two tomato plants, 4 basil plants, parsley and mint in my garden pots.
My shoulder is still “frozen” but I have been swimming a few times and my shoulder likes swimming.
I have made a peach pie. Due to the heat wave, the peaches have arrived early this summer. I have been to the Peach Man three Thursdays in a row and have bought 2 cases of apricots and 4 (or was it 5??) cases of peaches.
The Bachelorette has been boring and unwatchable. My French Friend Janou and I have resorted to swigging refreshing alcoholic beverages every Monday night. We also start watching the show 45 minutes after it begins so we can speed through the commercials and the boring bits.
There are a lot of boring bits.
Banjo Man did not find a banjo to purchase while on the road so we have spent five hundred and twenty seven hours shopping online and/or talking about what he should do.
Today I took the Banjo Bull by the horns and ordered a tenor banjo from Amazon. It was under budget, will arrive in two days and can be returned if he decides it clashes with his sensitive ears.
There comes a time when you just have to make a decision and hope for the best, right?
I have been cooking and canning and freezing–all of those good things–and the freezer is filled with yummy meals and bags upon bags of sliced peaches ready to be turned into pies and cobblers.
If I had a bumper sticker, it would say: PEACH PIE FOR LIFE!!
Because spending the rest of my life eating peaches seems like a very good idea.
Happy summer, everyone! I do have lots of pictures to post, but not a lot of time to upload, download, upload and upload again…..and it’s quite a process.
Book reviews comin’, too. An injured bald eagle. Plus pictures of jam!
I’m really late getting these posted, but Banjo Man’s family was here for the Fourth of July parade and festivities (it’s an annual tradition) and I’ve been really, really busy (but I can’t tell you what I’ve been doing exactly, but sitting at my desk just hasn’t happened very often).
It was 97 degrees on the 4th of July. After the parade–and it was **hot**–I ate a hot dog next to the foot races and then came home to take a Tylenol and a three hour nap.
Parades are not for wimps. But they sure are fun.
Neil proclaiming his joy with the decorations this year.
Sorry for not posting. As you can see, I’ve been very busy.
This is summer. This is what I do.
I was with two of my peeps, celebrating the beginning of summer and the resumption of Lessons With Doug. This is like “Tuesdays With Morrie” except with Doug and with musical instruments and without the philosophy.
We love Doug.
After 2 hours of singing and making merry and trying desperately to learn a new song in the key of B, we needed a drink.
And food.
We are going to do this every afternoon after Lessons With Doug.
You are welcome to join us.
The last morning we pack up the car.
The last time we gas up before heading west.
The last time Banjo Man scrapes bugs from the windshield.
The last bag of sunflower seeds. Banjo Man eats thousands of ’em.
3281 miles later…
Two steps away from the first swim of the summer.
Fourth of July
Glen the Banjo Man
LIVE at the Dump
is there any more pie? 