My Scorched Garden

If I were to come across this photo, I'd guess it a late-September mid-October shot. Never would I imagine it late June. Never. My beautiful white-flowering hydrangea--just now beginning its bloom. It will suffer through and bloom as much as it can, then begin to slowly die back as if it were October and a chill were on its way. The strain of the heat prompting it to bloom early. That's what plants do--bloom to survive. We take for granted all the work that goes into flowering. It is their desire to live--to go on--that causes the blooms.

This afternoon our county issued a heat warning and fire-burning warning to all residents via the emergency call system they have in place. I saved the message on the machine so Dr. Thyme can listen when he gets home. 

 The temperature is at 108 as I type. The forecast is calling for more of the same for the next seven days (or longer). No rain. We are all praying for rain. I know much of the entire country is under this unimaginable heat--some battling through fire on top of it all. I cannot even begin to imagine. Our hearts are with you. 

Diversions And Delusions (There Be Wool: Knitters Unite . . . And Colbert's Feet to Benefit)

It's officially summer. I'm officially ready for winter. So much so that I've begun my "winter knitting"--starting first with a beautiful cowl (the Honey cowl) in Kelly Green--for obvious reasons this color speaks to me. I love, love, love knitting this cowl. The textured pattern is both squishy and fluid--better yet--I can practically manage working it with my eyes closed. It's a simple and brilliant design. Who knew that a mere "wyif" and "p1"  combination could create such a wonderful little experience. It does. It has. 

Olive Oil Teff Banana Bread (Superstition: A Bird in The House)

This morning a bird flew into the house, landed on my slipper and left. Nothing good can come of this. I'd JUST started my day--it was the crack of dawn for crying out loud. And yet. This bird. There was a loud screeching and what seemed to be a little ruckus going on between this irate cardinal and two smaller sparrows (were they? I have no idea). Since February--this cardinal has found several windows around our home offensive--slamming himself into his reflection with such regularity that I have actually begun to ignore him or simply get through the day oblivious to his C-R-A-Z-Y. 

Rustic Peach Apple Galette (Roll It. Pile It. Fold It. Bake It.)

The hands-on time for this dessert is under fifteen minutes. The result is unabashedly sublime. To gild the lily, a scoop of vanilla bean coconut ice cream served in a bowl with a slab of the galette, and all will be right with the world. I've noticed the supermarket slowly receiving "not-quite-seasonal-for-Missouri" produce. Last week there were the bing cherries and Georgia peaches. The cherries really tempted me. I cannot resist them once the full line of cherries arrive. But even I have standards. It's far too early for a decent cherry. But the peaches. . . they were in perfect condition. They had that peachy aroma. Plus they were displayed in individually slotted spaces in cardboard boxes. As if the shipping box was specifically designed just for the semi-long trip they had getting to Missouri from Georgia. I came home with two pounds. My impulse control was low, what can I say.