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

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

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

A wee pepper from the Colorado garden. There are lots of squash blossoms, but no other fruits from this tiny garden’s labor as of yet.

My friends Steve and Jan live on a couple acres near Denver and have the most impressive gardens I’ve ever seen. Jan can grow just about anything, while Steve uses his carpentry skills for good. Arbors, raises beds, handmade bee hives, a pond, etc. It is truly a gorgeous place to spend time.

When I mentioned to Finny that Jan had bees, she said she’d be more than happy to do just that — spend a few hours wandering the garden with Jan. Jan, in turn, was delighted to have someone so incredibly interested in her passions: gardening, canning and bee keeping.

Jan’s pantry is unbelievable. She cans dozens of things — soups, jam, sauces, purees — so they can eat fresh year round.

She also has gobs of fresh fruit they grow, including grapes, cherries and apples.

But let’s be honest — really this was all about the bees. Finny’s new hives have her exceptionally interested in seeing how others tend bees. Jan is just getting going in bee keeping too. She and Steve have 4 hives they’ve built for colonies they either rescued from old buildings or excavated from their own.

And in turn, they have more honey than they know what to do with. We had a honey tasting; she offered us three different versions. One was standard hone, while another was a dark, brandy like honey that is a byproduct. My favorite was the honey mixed with bee pollen. It was earthy, savory and simply heavenly.

Watching these two gab endlessly for a couple hours about their favorite new past time was a kick. They were instant friends. It was, one could say, a sweet way to spend an afternoon.

~K

I am not a fan of weeding. I like being outside in the garden in every other capacity. Weeding is like picking a fight with the slow, violent and mean kids in junior high — miserable, prickly and entirely unnecessary. Alas, this new non-desert environment is host to many a weed. I’m pretty sure I’ve got nearly all varieties of the natives thriving in my yard.

I spent no fewer than five hours the first week in this house outside weeding. Not reading. Not planting seeds, or mowing the lawn or staring at the bees going in and out of the giant tree. Nope. Five hours pulling up handfuls of noxious plants that made my hands itchy, contemplating solutions that didn’t require a fire.

I have a long strip of rocks between the lawn and my drive. The lawn, the flower beds and the entire backyard were full of prickly, poky, annoyances when I moved. Recognizing my limitations in patience, time and energy, I decided to conquer just that strip of rocks with a bit of recycling gardening.

If you are building a garden bed, this can also be called lasagna gardening. Start with one giant cardboard box you care to recycle.

Add a box cutter, a couple package of $3 garden stakes, several bags of mulch and a fair amount of elbow grease.

Place the cardboard down first —  which will biodegrade with rain and time providing a layer of compost — over the weeds and desired area.

Add mulch. (Or if creating a garden bed, add soil, more cardboard, more carbon, rise and repeat layers.)

Voila — the inability for those pesky weeds to return/continue growing. The are stuck under Cardboardland, where they do not pass go. Do not collect $200. And do not continue to multiply like hillbilly bunny rabbits.

And if for whatever reason you have the ability and energy to continue — mow the lawn. My vote? Lawns are dumb. A dumb waste of space and way, way too much physical exertion for too little gain. My permanent front yard will be permaculture and will not, under any circumstances, require a mower.

~K

I could never be a hipster. I’m far too willing to show my excitement and happiness at the little things.

We started with two dirt patches filled with errant grass and weeds and a dusty porch. And one happy dog — Chaco — to watch us work.

We finished with two dirt patches covered with black plastic — to cook off those weeds. And a porch decorated with baskets of hanging flowers, a potted poppy and clean chairs. A bit of weeding. A bit of sweeping. And now, a bit of waiting as the plastic and the sun do their thing. In a few weeks we’ll put down mulch, plant some native grasses and a tree and call it a job well done.

With any luck, we’ll come close to the glory that is his next door neighbor’s yard. Not only is her porch swing adorable, but she’s let friends come in to garden portions of her yard. It is a mini-community garden with boxes marked off and the whole enchilada. Amazing creativity, this community. I absolutely love the spirit of sustainability and sharing.

I convinced BJ to approach her and see if anyone else would like the two patches of earth he owns down by the street. The ones in front of her home are being gardened by some volunteer. It would be so much sweeter to see this space going to use for food. He agreed.

*UPDATED: Rosie sent me this link and if it isn’t the same front yard! Bravo to this woman, who’s turned her yard into a CSA.

Of course, we celebrated our hour of labor with two hours of happy at a local brewery.

Colorado loves their breweries. (I could be a hipster about beer. Pretty to photograph, but otherwise? Meh.)

~K

The Rebel is back in action.

~K

Well. I’d say the same for the yahoo who stops to photograph a spring snow. Why run to my car when I can stop, twirl, try to catch a few flakes in my mouth, swat flakes away when they land in my lashes and then snap a few for giggles? Ten inches expected, with a winter weather advisory.

It’s a warm snow. Right? A snow that will just further water and not kill the gardens I’ve spent so much time and energy helping with this week?

Yeah.

Mother Nature — bold move.

~K

Have you seen Thor? Well. If you are interested in a Brazilian all-you-can-eat meat buffet? For $12, this is a steal. Because the meat? It’s well done. I have no idea who the blond actor is, but he is a Legends of the Fall-esq Brad Pitt and he’s so easy on the eyes, there was more than one muscle-fueled scene when I blushed bashful. Plus for dessert you can have a side of painfully dumb Natalie Portman. (Agent? Fired. How do you go from Black Swan to Thor?) Without giving anything away — because let’s be honest. This is a big Hollywood movie. Boy. Girl. Lots of violence. Minimal plot. Excessive noise. Crash. Boom. Bang. Happy ending — there is a bigger lesson.

Humility. Sucking it up to say, “Man, I am flawed. I have a lot to learn.” Don’t worry — I’m not lamenting how much I have to change about myself in this post. But it was rather refreshing to see a movie that made so much money this weekend focused on the moral characteristic. (And I’m sure that’s why people went in droves to see it. Not because of the flash. Or violence. Or exceptionally good looking cast. RIGHT.)

There is also a smaller lesson: 3d movies make me sick to my stomach. Tilt your head just one way or the other and everything is out of focus. I don’t know how in the world James Cameron thinks 3d movies are going to save the box office, but he can’t count on my regular business. If I’m going to watch movies, make cracks about beef cakes and roll my eyes at the lobotomized female lead, I can do so in my jammies on the couch a la Netflix.

Plus, there is just so much to do outside at the moment. Everyone is planting their gardens in Golden. I’ve helped put in two this week — which means I put on gloves and stuck my hands in the dirt. Nothing more. It was particularly refreshing to visit some friends’ garden yesterday. They have just installed four hives. The have two acres, with a pond, a barn and a handful of raised beds. Then they showed me the freezer in their garage.

It’s moments like these when I’m reassured I’m the latest member of the hippie Colorado tribe. The freezer was full of colorful mason jars — each labeled with the fruits of last year’s harvest. Acorn squash soup. Pumpkin puree. Sour cherry pie filling. Peaches. Chard and sausage soup. Stewed tomatoes. Rhubarb and strawberry compote. Applesauce from apples grown in their very own yard. They work hard gardening three months of the year, spend a couple extra minutes making extra portions as they cook during the summer with their fresh ingredients to make portions for the freezer, and then are able to eat fresh year round out of their own garden.

YES.

A new vision for my little homestead has been set. Less Thor. More thyme. Fewer movies. More manure. Minimal beef cake. Maximized chicken coop?

Oh, good grief.

~K

We’ve had crazy weather in Phoenix this spring, including uncharacteristically cool and rainy nights the last few days. After a lengthy hike on the Peralta Trail in the Superstitions, we reached Weaver’s Needle Sunday morning to find it dusted with snow. It isn’t every day you see cactus covered in snow. And it isn’t every day you get a chance to scoop up as much as possible and make ridiculously pathetically small desert snowballs for a quick fight.

It was such a beautiful day and relaxing adventure — I’m having a hard time focusing in the office today. I so wish I were back on the trail, babbling along with my girlfriends, breathing clean desert air and admiring my surroundings with complete love.

~k

A bit of time wandering the Desert Botanical Gardens as the sun set is exactly what I needed yesterday. And of course, with a wet winter, mild spring and warm weather upon us, the gardens couldn’t have put on a more vibrant show to welcome visitors. When people say the desert is so drab and olive, I wonder if they are really looking? The purple undertones of cactus, the coral orange edges of aloe, the fuchsia blooms, red poppies.

Yes, there is a lot of sage green. But no one wears camo to the prom. And the desert right now is dolled up, happy and looking like she’s about to be crowned belle of the ball.

~K

This tree shaded my bedroom windows. It is the perfect tree — large limbs reaching toward the sky in a dozen directions, home to a handful of bird nests.

I miss this tree. And the giant hardwoods down by the river. And the flamboyant trees in full fiery orange glow. And even the dumb, non-native eucalyptus trees that line the roads on the tea estates.

I’m in a bit of a post-vacation funk, one that can only be described as self-absorbed and pathetic. All the same, I’m looking at my holiday photos with such desire to return! Take more! Feel that African sun warm my face and the rain cool my flip flopped toes. Alas, this is as close as we are coming today to those glorious gardens, where I spent days reading, day dreaming and watching the butterflies and dragonflies compete in one triumphant pageant of biology.

~K