My man and I took a ride out of on-fire Missoula
up to Common Ground Farm
in less-smoky Arlee for some raspberry pickin’. It meant a lot that he came with me because I know he like standing in 101 degree sun about as much as I like my toenails pulled off with pliers.
I don’t mind getting really hot as long as it is appropriate. I mean, sweating profusely while wearing a cute dress and sipping a martini? Not so much. But sweating like a whore on nickel night (that is an Anne Hughes epic one-liner) while in a patch of fresh, organic raspberries with the buzziest bees ever and a view of the Mission Mountains? I’ll take it any day. I was singing It’s Raining Men thanks to my friend, Savage
We stepped into the first row and each picked a berry. Andy said, “Man. Imagine if this was your job.” And I said, “I can because it was my job for two years.” I was nostalgic for my days managing 3000 tomatoes and what seemed like a thousand grape vines at Ten Spoon
. I can take the heat on a farm. I love getting grubby and being left with my thoughts and acres of produce. Just not for 40 hours a week.
We ended up with 10 pounds of fragrant, colorful, organic raspberries. Not that it was a contest, but Andy weighed in one pound more than me. But mine were all ripe and perfect and some of his were still light pink and wouldn’t pull off the stem. Not that it was a contest…but I won.
Read more on Arlee Raspberries…
I went garage saling with my friend, Amy
, this am and found some good baby scores: a wood sled, 12 clothing items and nine diapers. All for $12. I do love a good deal. One bonus with having a kid is how cute my clothesline now looks.
Read more on tiny clothes on a clothesline…
It is still a million degrees in western Montana. My gardens are suffering–they don’t quite know what to do. The plants usually have cool nights and only a few days in the hundreds. But with over a month of near 100 degree or higher weather, fruit is officially freaking out. Laura’s apricot tree formed and ripened fruit in like 48 hours. Apples are falling off my new mullet neighbor’s tree, I think because of heat and no water. He has let his once-charming yard that was lovingly cared for by our sweet gay neighbors go to hell. It is tragic. But he has a mullet so, really, what can you expect?
In the last month, we have had many days over 100 degrees and the average temp this time of year is usually 85 degrees. That, my conservative not-wanting-to-believe-in-evolution-and-global-warming friends, is something to pay attention to and try to do something about. Andy and I recently watched Inconvenient Truth
and I feel like everyone should own it and watch it monthly. We try to be conscientious and thoughtful but we can always do more. One thing we ceased was leaving the porch light on at night. I really like having it on because it makes be feel safer, but, as Andy says, “I want my kid to have polar bears
.” Me too so the light is off.
So I am watering more and I hate that
. But my beets are writhing and my sweet peas are cracking and my zinnias are wilting. We let our boulevard die. It is stupid that it is grass anyway. I wanted to plant my edible garden out there since it is the best spot, but Mr. Urban Forester said no. I might do it anyway. At least it would be functional instead of knapweed
Today, I was pooped on while gardening in the front yard. yes.
Read more on so hot. so so hot….
is near completion. I especially feel this way now that the closet curtains are in place. I splurged on large amounts of Amy Butler fabric to replace the closet doors in Bug’s room and the guest room and I was afraid to cut into it. Lame, I know, but that is what moms are for. I have spent the last three weekends with my mom and now have perfectly perfect curtains.
I will post the guest room curtains in a different post as my mama took to seam ripping due to a small imperfection.
Read more on the mouth-watering fabric…
I wrote about the amazing spectacle
I found on the perimeter of my compost pile in June. I know many around the world have been on the edge of their seats anticipating the outcome of the Incredible Spud. And here it is. Thriving. A potato. Planted in June. In a pot. It is true.
Read more on entrepreneurial potato growth spurt…