I'm not one for sitting around and feeling sorry for myself. August hasn't been so difficult, though this imposed restrictions based on my leg has features of both boon and curse -- see all the work I've gotten done.
It's the twentieth of August. It's high summer but we're gotten away from the oppressive heat. We live in the country and this time of year the bug noises are huge -- and the birds. Today it got dark and then the rain started, a few patters. In ten minutes went from gray and a few raindrops to dark to streaming sideways rain and thunder. East towards Grand Rapids the storm drove the rain at 60 mph, though it wasn't that bad here. Then the calm clean afterwards.
The Annual I-Have-Red-Haven-Peaches-And-You-Don't Post
Mrs. Dr. Phil went by one of our local farmstands to get some local tomatoes -- mmm, tomato sandwiches tomorrow -- and she back with not just peaches, but our beloved special Red Haven peaches. After putting them in a bowl and bringing them by for me to smell their peachy goodness, I pointed out we could try one Right Now.
It was perfect. Smooth, tasty, juicy, perfectly ripe.
Peach season is always an adventure, as every week brings in a different mix of varieties. And last week Mrs. Dr. Phil made a rhubarb-peach crisp, which included the last of our fresh blueberries. With the nutmeg and cinnamon, the blueberries were like raisins and the fruit medley and oatmeal crisp was perfect. Take that, Top Chef.