AfricanKelli

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Come to find out, my little garden bounty of squash looked much prettier than they taste.

In other news, I’m pretty sure I tried to serve roasted, decorative gourds for dinner last night. And it wasn’t even a Amy Sedaris recipe.

~K

 Friends! You are my friend, right? I mean, everyone is my friend — especially if you let me sniff your butt first. Even Chaco is my friend and he took a bite out of my ear last week, wearing a short-bus cone. Friend! Let’s go to the park. I LOVE the park, almost as much as I love bacon and meatloaf. The park is so fun! I don’t know if you’ve heard of this place, but it is this huge space with ducks and geese and poop everywhere to sniff!

And let’s get real. This adorable pom pom tail? It wasn’t meant for just the backyard. No, this cuteness belongs in public.

Tall Lady won’t let me swim. I try. Every time we go to the park, I pull her toward the edge to look for giant geese and ducks — swimming snacks. How I want to just human paddle my way out there for a couple laps. Apparently the mucky water is off limits. Whatever. I like my fowl foul. 

The summer is gone and everything is a gorgeous golden. Of course, that’s what “I hear.” According to Tall Lady’s people, I can only see in black and white. Who makes this stuff up? How do they know what colors I can see? Maybe I’m an aesthetic kinda guy who can appreciate the hues of a changing season? The jeweled tones of falling leaves. The darker indigo of a chilly night air. The delicious orange pumpkins I’m going to yank off the neighbor’s porch at first opportunity.

Dirt. I love dirt. Isn’t dirt perfect? I love to roll around in it, run through it, create little storms of it behind me, track it in the house and have it on my paws at all time. The only thing better than dirt is its cousin mud.

Leaves are so fun to chase as they fall from the sky. Take that squirrels! Your trees are balding, making you that much easier to hunt. Even your home doesn’t love you. My home never sheds. Why? Because my home appreciates me. I bring it dirt. And sometimes even your refugee leaves.

This stuff is called yarrow. It was red earlier this summer — not that I’d know as a “color blind dog.” Ahem. It’s really nice, but you have to watch out for the bees. Those little things are like chihuahuas. Their size is totally deceptive.

Wait. Hold the leash! Those people did not ask if they could come to my park. Don’t they know this is my park? Mmm…. park.

I LOVE THE PARK.

Scratch my belly?

~wNelsonM

The squash are coming up nicely in the garden:

And the peaches from southern Colorado are being sold by the bushel. I bought a giant box, which is a delightful problem to have.

I’m thinking of buying pumpkins for the porch this week.

Autumn! It is so nice to meet you!

~K

I’m not sure where I originally heard the theory of gardening in thirds, but I’d guess it was from my Grandma Maxine. She grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania during the Great Depression and was forever transformed. She is exceptionally thrifty, I’d guess in part because she was no stranger to hunger as one of five kids. She is also exceptionally generous. She has led a life of giving. Thrift and gift are forever entwined in her view; the more clever you are with money and supplies, the more you can help — and in this case feed — others.

Gardening in thirds goes a bit like this: when planning your garden boxes, you plant three times as much as you anticipate needing. One third comes home to your kitchen. The next third is sacrificial — you anticipate losing this to the critters in the yard. This is, after all, organic gardening. And the final third is to be giving to others. Could be your neighbors, or in this case — the local food bank.

Metro CareRing is a unique food bank to Denver for several reasons. The director, Lynne, noted her favorite room at their small facility is the produce space. In this area, clients can select the fruits and vegetables they want to take home. This reduces waste and provides a bit of humanity to those in need. They have a choice; they are not simply given a box and expected to make the best of it for the next month.

And so, when the radishes were begging to be picked, their purple bodies bulging from the earth, to the food bank they went.

Thank you, Grandma Max. You’ve taught me more than I can say.

~K

The last six weeks or so have been a steady stream of visitors and fun. And while I have had a summer to remember, I haven’t been able to shake the type A guilt from countless projects left incomplete in my office. That knitting project. A sewing project long since cut out. A couple writing assignments for various magazines and a friend’s website. Even my reading — I’ve been slogging through the final book in the Dragon Tattoo series. And oh, that book I’m writing. It hasn’t been nurtured much lately either.

I’m preparing for a quick turn around trip to Phoenix later this week. Professionally, my life is busy and exciting and waking me up at night with ideas I need to jot down right this minute. Rather than accept an invitation this weekend for a road trip to Breckenridge, or join friends at Wash Park this afternoon for a bbq and hijinks, I dug in my heels and kept my agenda closed.

I needed time with the mountains, my yoga mat, Willie Nelson Mandela and a lengthy list of podcasts in the queue. I needed to catch up on sleep — as boring as it sounds. I needed to spend time in silence with God.

I’m reading a book Mini gave me on her recent visit: The War of Art. I spent less than an hour with this book today and felt a rejuvenated spirit for my many creative pursuits. If you are a creative person, or simply someone who sets goals and needs a bit of encouragement to see the finish line, I recommend it highly. It was exactly what I needed this morning for a final push to see several of those nagging loose ends tied in a bow.

It feels especially good to have a new energy here; I’ve gone from posting daily to grinding to push out something slightly different a couple times a week. A bit of downtime and my creative coffers are full again. I had a “zone” run this weekend, followed by a hike that left me dizzy with thin, crisp, sweet mountain air. There was even a bit of namaste and craft store’s worth of finish line ribbons.

I might be a bit punch-drunk on a productivity high.

BOO-hells yes-YAH.

~K