Harvest Monday

Imagine my surprise when the camera's memory card didn't only contain pictures of today's incredibly bountiful harvest.

You see, Eric and I had taken the younger children away for a short backpacking trip near Tahoe, which was wonderful, but I'd left the camera home, partly because it is kind of heavy and partially because I'd misplaced it. Oh well, I took lots of mental pictures: the eight year old ahead of us on a trail overarched by huge trees; the two kids playing teetertotter on a log caught between two trees; the perfect bijou lake; the clear water; Eric's face next to mine in the tent, even though I was all wrapped up in a sleeping bag and he looked a bit hot. . .

But today, after yesterday's post-trip bout of laundry, laundry, dishes, dishes, dishes, returning camping gear to the proper shelves, washing camp cook pots, was over, I headed out to say hi to the garden.

I came back with a lot of stuff. I took pictures of it. Then came the work of changing it from fresh food to storable food. Roasting. Soup-making. Giving some away to the kid with the sprained ankle when daughter called and asked me to bring an ice pack to the field. His mom said thanks. . .

And the day went by in this way. Finally, the house quiet, the kids down for the night, the dogs even quiet, I remembered -- I wanted to post my harvest pictures.

Instead I got these:

That's right. The cat one I took the day I left, but apparently the weekend was lots of Ultimate, as daughter #1's club team qualified for Regionals -- with a twelve year old on the field -- too bad Regionals is in Arizona, the weekend before her first college classes, and those of a teammate, and another teammate just sprained his ankle today. . . and apparently daughter #2 and I are going to have to talk about playing with fire in a wooden Victorian house because you know, when you're 13 and you do a LOT of declaring that you Are All Grown Up Now And Responsible, Thank You Very Much, then maybe taking pictures isn't the smartest thing in the world.

Let us turn our gaze away from the travails of rearing the young and look at rearing veggies. Whee! Tons of Principe Borghese for drying, behind them the Early Girls from one vine. Ripe red and yellow peppers, to roast and blend into the tomato soup that half of the Early Girls made today. A couple of Romanesco zucchini, two Marketmore slicing cucumbers, and a bunch of Persian Baby cucumbers. Lots of everything summer, in my garden.

Vegetables are easier, but they can't throw a Frisbee. Guess I'll keep both harvests then.