The summer started off with our vacation to Bodega Bay during the Memorial Day holiday where we had the best fresh crab ever. Then, we took our travels to Crescent City during the 4th of July and were accosted by grumpy old men, but were treated to the best damn firework show ever. Ferris was a little mad at us, but he got over it.

We also reaped a bounty of a reward from our garden we started back in February. It's starting to wind down now. I ripped out the melons, squashes and zucchini as they stopped producing a while ago and were now only attracting pill bugs, ants and aphids. We have carrots and salad greens still booming. I cut back the tomatoes and will be turning the remainder of them into sauce.

We were able to fix the entry way from the water damage that occured a few years ago. Something else Ferris was mad at, but now he is a happy camper. We also painted the kitchen, something we've wanted to do for a while now. Vin is also working on our sidegate. Can't wait to show you the masterpiece that displays his welding prowess.

As the season starts to wind down and we prepare for autumn, we can honestly say it was a fun and rewarding summer.

Hope all of you enjoyed yours as well.

Be sure to check out the photoblog for the pictures of our projects and trips.

Painting, construction, but no vehicle purchasing.

Three Day Weekends were made for this.

Update coming soon!

As an aside, and reminder to myself, barrels do not make friendly homes for viney things such as melon. BAD idea. Also a bad idea is using old fence board to create false bottoms in the barrels so as not to use so much dirt. They need that dirt, but what they don't need is the fungus that the rotting fence board provides. And not to overplant tomatoes. They will turn into leggy horror-house tomato plants.

Back when I Didn't Know What I Was Doing and haphazardly tossing any ol' plant that would grow into our raised garden I've sense ended up with a hodgepodge flower garden that is mostly taken over by lavender. Not complaining one bit. Slowly but surely it's grown into a full-sized herb garden.  Non herb plants include Jasmine (that is increasing tough to wrangle without a real trellis to grow on, but I'm training it to do a little something that will look great in Spring), gladioluses (that are seeing their last days), decorative garlic (also going to be gone next year), yellow narcissus that only blooms during Spring, and of which is a delightful harbinger of the season and hydrangea.  

Now let's talk about hydrangea. It's root word would be hydra , which one knows automatically means it needs a lot of water. That's fine, but because I planted two of these in that raised bad when I Didn't Know What I Was Doing eight years ago, it is so in the wrong exposure that during the summer I have burnt blossoms and crispy leaves. It must go.

So, this morning I huffed and puffed and wrestled ONE of them out of the garden, fighting the mint (which totally made me think of the ice cream Vinny made with our fresh chocolate mint from the garden), and the stupid crab weed. It was humid and warm by 11am and completely unbearable to be outside so I didn't finish until late this evening.

In it's place, I planted sweet basil since we lost our in the frost last year and we're nearly out of what we harvested from that crop.

I would say we've been very successful in our vegetable garden this year. Countless servings of broccoli, salads, green beans, peas, tomatoes, sauce from said tomatoes, squash and zucchini, and a couple of savory melons helped cut down our grocery bill a bit.

It's kind of like a Mastercard commercial.

Seeds: $20
Dirt: $60
Water: $30
Ice cream maker: $50
A summer of home made and garden-fresh dinners and deserts? PRICELESS.

Next weekend will involve stucco, molding and paint!

*I wrote this while it was 90º in our house because we were trying to conserve energy. Note the number of typos. I suspect there is a direct correlation to the number of typos to each brain cell that died of heat stroke. My apologies.

In other Smith House Kitchen developments we've had so many tomatoes ripen that we can't eat them all at once so I've been simmering them down into a pasta sauce and freezing for later. The secret? Brown sugar. And Fresno chilis. That's it. Can't tell you any more. If I do we'll have to kill you.

Our Big Ass Tube television in the living room finally went kablooey. After torturing us with strobe light epilepsy tests, we couldn't thunk it, hit or punch it hard enough to get it to come back on. Vin tried some trouble shooting but it was dead on arrival. So guess what we get to do? Shop for a new television.

Jam has been our biggest accomplishment this year. Strawberry, plum, peach, and cherry. Then the variations with chilis to make: Plum Viscious, Hot Fuzz, and Chillin' Cherry.

Summer has been hot, work has been hard, but play has been fun. As the days get shorter, there's a certain briskness to the air in the mornings as one can taste the withering of the robust summer days in its death throes. We've been thinking of cooler weather, hot food and cozy evenings. We're ready for harvest season!

It seems like just the other day it was the end of July. Now it's nearly the middle of August. What the heck? As we wind down summer our evenings are filled with barbecues, friends and new ice cream recipes.

Will have an update soon! Stay tuned!

A couple of years ago, while shopping at Trader Joe's we found a chocolate mint plant, bought it, planted it and now it's going haywire in the herb garden. And by haywire, I mean taking over. So we ground some of it up and added it to the ice cream recipe, dropping in mini chocolate chips at the end for a delicious and refreshing treat to go along with birthday cake.

Saturday morning we took a leisurely drive to Bodega Bay with our friends Curt and Cheryl and their daughter, Nicki. It was foggy, but a welcome climate change to the 100º+ weather we've had in the valley. The Lucas Wharf never disappoints with their calamari lunch (breaded calamari steak on an onion roll) and for dinner, the Tides Inn (where Hitchcock's The Birds was filmed) always pleases with a variety of dishes. If you have a chance to sample their pastry bar, we recommend it!

Sunday was a day of relaxing and we wrapped it up with wine and cheese night sampling the myriad collection we have along with the gourmet cheese we purchased from the Loleta Cheese factory during the Crescent City trip.

It went too quickly, but was time well spent!

I do believe I forgot to blog about the Baby Robin Fiasco. As summer has competely wrapped us up in all kinds of fun activities, I've been neglecting this here blog. This shall be rectified!

One day about a month ago, for some reason I can't remember, Vin & I didn't carpool to work. He left the house one Friday morning, and I followed shortly after. I locked the door, stepped through our jungle of spider-plant streamers and to the car in the driveway where I noticed the pathetic, purple heap of a baby bird.

It was a cooler summer morning (before hell hath arrived) and by its color and the presence of a few investigating scout ants, I figured it dead. I was plunged into the memories of spring time at the house my sister and I grew up at. Every year a sparrow nested in the eves above out back patio and every year she'd shove out one or two of her offspring to die in the heat baking on the concrete slab. One year, my sister tried like hell to save one. I remember we named it Jelly Bean because of its distended belly. It didn't live.

This sad, wrinkled, featherless chick crumpled on our drive brought a sadness to me at the thought it never had a chance. I looked up, wondering how the hell it got there as there were no branches from our severely trimmed trees to hold a nest.

Cats. Our neighborhood is thick with them. And not because we don't spay or neuter them. Quite the contrary. Our neighborhood seems to be the prime dropping off point for families unable to care for their pets as homes are foreclosed upon. AND IF I EVER CATCH YOU DOING IT SO HELP ME. In fact earlier that week we discovered a litter of 3 - 4 month old kitties looking for food. Okay, moving on.

I was already running late for work and couldn't bear letting this tiny body be covered with ants or be ripped to shreds by one of those cats. THAT'S WHEN IT MOVED. Yes, the baby bird moved. Gasping, I shouted out loud, "You're alive!" And I didn't even care if my neighbors thought I was crazy(ier). I bolted into the house, grabbed a paper towel, raced out and gingerly picked up the cold little bird that twitched. Feeling it wasn't long for this world, I resolved to the fact that I could at least bring a few hours of comfort before it passed.

I brushed off the ants and inspected it noting two surface puncture wounds. One under the left wing, and one tiny prick on the head. Nothing too deadly. But if it had indeed been a cat that caused the injuries, I knew the bacteria in their mouths is fatal to baby chicks. It was limp and cold and I warmed in it my hands as I made a make-shift incubator in the garage out of an insulated cooler, towels and a flash light. Sighing, I left for work, late knowing that if I came back in the afternoon to check on it, it'd most likely be dead. But at least I gave it a few moments of warmth and peace.

Once at work, I studiously researched baby chicks to see if I could identify the bird. Starling? Robin? They're all so ugly it's hard to tell! I looked up diets, half-remembering the concoction my sister made for the sparrow abandoned at our house so many years ago. Discovering that once the meal was made, one would have to feed a baby chick EVERY TWENTY MINUTES, I realized how daunting it would to care for this life if it survived these few hours.

So I called my neighbor and friend, Cheryl. You know, the one who I rescued the turkey chicks with in the middle of a busy highway? Yeah, that crazy friend. I told her what I found, what needed to be done to sustain it, and if she or her daughter who was on summer vacation could check in on it to see if it was doing okay. She called me a few minutes later so excited because the bird was moving around, pink in color and gaping for food. Yay! I was worried about its dehydration, and it going into shock, so first thing was first...give it what it wanted.

After we made a mad dash around to give the bird a little food and water (let me note, because of having birds and being familiar with their anatomy, I knew how to feed the chick. Someone unfamiliar with avians should NOT attempt to feed them, but keep them warm and call their local wildlife rescue center), it was chirping, very active, unhappy at being handled and only wanted to snuggle in its warm cocoon we had made for it. My neighbor said we should do the sane thing, and find our wildlife rescue center to take in the bird. She was right. However, our wildlife rescue center doesn't allow you to talk to a live person and only provides direction to drop off an animal at its office. You can, however, call a number of volunteers to help you if you have any questions. Which I did.

I have never been so verbally abused.

The conversation went a little something like this:

Crochety Volunteer Lady: Hello?

Me: Hi, I have a question. I found this baby bird in my driveway and have warmed it back to life. I've been trying to get a hold of the local wildlife rescue. Meanwhile, I've been giving it electrolyte water and a protein meal--

Crochety Volunteer Lady: STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING RIGHT NOW!

Me, startled: What, excuse me?

Crochety Volunteer Lady, thorugh gritted dentures: You are going to kill it! Birds have vents under their tongues and you can drown them.

Me: Ma'am, I know. I've had birds and I know how they drink...

Crochety Volunteer Lady, snapping: Not like THESE you don't! You stop what you're doing right now and get that bird to the wildlife center.

Me, trying to hold my composure: Ma'am, that is why I called. How the hell do I get a hold of them?

Crochety Volunteer Lady: You don't. You drop it off there.

Me:...

Crochety Volunteer Lady: Bye. *click*

Wench! So, I had to go back to work. My neighbor was able to drop the bird off, and while I was on the phone with her providing directions on how to get the wildlife centery, the baby bird was screaming its head off for food.

Ultimately, the wonderful gal at the wildlife rescue took in the robin, said he looked like he was in good condition and would be joining 200 other birds awaiting rehabilitation. She put him in an incubator, got him set up with antibiotics for his wounds and fed him to hydrate him.

The bird is doing fine.

Oh, and it was a robin. I see robins jumping around in our yard hunting for food and I wonder which one of them is the parent to the one we rescued.

Vin and I took the annual trip up to Crescent City for the 4th of July fireworks and took our neighbors with us. It's taken twenty-two years, but Vin finally was able to return to his old hunting grounds to bottom fish where his grandfather used to take him. It was even more special because he was the only one on the boat to limit out and catch the biggest fish. You can check it out the glory page here!

Because I drank a whole bottle of wine the night before (I know, I'm ashamed!), we weren't quite motivated enough to catch the parade this year, but we certainly heard it. Cheryl and I needed to hit up the grocery store where we thought we'd try our luck at the lotto kiosk. The night before we had eaten an exorbitant amount of crab with butter and garlic. Have you ever been around someone who's eaten a whole clove of garlic and you haven't? That smell that's somewhere between the odor of a cadaver armpit and the underside of mushroom sprinkled with cow shit? Yes, I'm sure that's what we smelled like, in some fashion, but because she and I had both ate it, we were blissfully unaware of our perfume. Until Crotchety Old Bastard at the lottery kiosk alerted us.

I had already begun to loathe this cranky crotchwaffle when, as I checked my tickets to see if we had any winnings, he grumped, "How long you gonna be? I could get a beer already."

Seeing as his bald head adorned with a baseball cap proudly displaying he was retired Air Force, I simply smiled and said, "Just a minute," and went back to checking my tickets. Depressed I couldn't call into work and tell them I'm never coming back, I moved on to feeding my tickets into the machine for the next draw.

"How many of those you gonna play?" he balked.

"Just four," I said really trying for politeness and not quite managing.

"And how many times do you play a week?" he demanded.

None of your fucking business, I wanted to say and gave a tight lipped, "Twice".

"So, a hundred dollars?!"

I narrowed my eyes and said, "No." Because if he'd do the math he'd know it was $40.

By then, Cheryl, who'd been breaking change at the courtesy counter returned and I was done with my tickets. Now it was Cantankerous Bastard's turn at the kiosk. Cheryl stood behind him, politely waiting her turn to gamble her chances at whisking us all away to some island paradise.

As the old fart fumbled with his ticket, I felt I should be nicer. It was Independence Day, he was obviously a Vet, and had probably been through many an ordeal that granted him the Badges of Bastardry.

And then he said, "It's stinky! Stinks in here!" He continued to punch impatiently at kiosk to move on to the next option.

Cheryl stared at me with her wide eyes. Apparently we did stink.

"Like Garlic!" He scowled, talking to the machine. "Stinky!" He dropped his ticket and managed to argue with it under his breath. "STINKS!" he exclaimed.

I tried not to laugh and instead hid my mouth behind my hands. Holy crap, did my breath stink. The old guy finally was finished molesting the lottery kiosk and angrily shoved his ticket into his wallet.

"Good luck, sir," I said with a smirk.

"Adios," he snapped.

"Did you hear that guy?!" Cheryl asked, laughing. "I guess we do stink like garlic!"

That indeed.

The fireworks that evening were AMAZING. We were lucky enough to score a beach house with a 180º panoramic view of the coast line which included the beaches where the locals would be entertaining everyone should the firework show thrown by the city be fogged out. The before it had been, but we were not disappointed because of the impressive display given by the campers on the beach and in the docks.

We didn't freeze our asses off this time because we were cozied up on the sofa pushed up to the picture window overlooking the harbor and the beaches. With coffee and blankets, we were privy to box seats of the best fireworks show we have ever scene. Completely disregarding the "if it flies, it's illegal" warnings plastering the city, the locals outshined in showmanship the full line of mortar-deployed fireworks. Starting well before dusk, our front-row seats gave us the advantage of enjoying the most law-breaking citizens. We didn't even care if the show thrown by the city was fogged out, but because of our seats, it wasn't. Granted we couldn't see the highest launched fireworks, and even some of the low-level stuff was cut off by the fog bank, it didn't deter from the incredible show.

One public service announcement I feel must be made is: If there are any folks out there who want to donate to a good cause, I urge you to log onto NOAA and donate to the marine mammal rehabilitation centers, or if you're able volunteer your time at your local center. Most of these centers are burdened by displaced or abandoned animals who need care. All staff is on a volunteer basis. At Crescent City's Marine Mammal Rehabilitation Center they had 27 young harbor seals and sea lions who had been found abandoned up river due to off weather patterns. Any little bit helps. Okay. End service announcement.

On our way back home we took a leisurely ride through our state, stopping off at Loleta Cheese Factory--where one of the Halloweenmovies was filmed--and the best place to find chipotle cheese! Then we checked out Eel River Brewery where you'll find the coolest beers, the best burgers and the prettiest outdoor garden. With cats! Check those places out if you're even in California's north coast.

It was a fun trip, it was a bummer returning home, but it was a wonderful vacation.

Promise there'll be an update after this weekend. A fun one!

We experimented (as one should do when jamming) and combined the plums with some of the Fresno chilis Curt & Cheryl were growing. What we got was a sweet, fruity plum flavor with a hot kick that warms in the mouth and dissolved away leaving no aftertaste. It's great on cream cheese and soda crackers and makes for a wonderful appetizer!

The color of the jam came out so beautiful!