Summer’s Bounty

Dusty Craig
Aug 27, 2017 · 6 min read

It’s Yummy on the Ranch

The texts come almost daily, sometimes several a day. ‘Hey, got a few tomatoes and some lettuce we could grab?’ ‘Yo Dusty, how’s that corn doing, and any melons ripe yet?’ ‘Gary’s bringing the kids and cousins for a barbecue, can we buy 10 pounds of hamburger, and maybe some tomatoes and corn?’

The locals are hungry, and they know where to shop local.

From a heat standpoint, I hate summer. We could go from late June right into early November and that’d be just peachy by me. I’m old and fat, and I don’t like to sweat. But, the heat is what makes those tomatoes, corn and melons sing their oh so sweet melodies, so I grumble, bitch and whimper when the mercury climbs much above 72, and just accept that I must suffer to feed the locals.

Summer’s bounty is more than just the goodies from the garden. My buddy Sharon just left with a boxful of goodies, headed home at nearly 10 pm. We sat in the cool, breezy darkness, nattering about cows, crops, dogs and life out here in rural western Oregon. We shared a brew from San Diego, courtesy of my SoCal buddy Shelly, who came up for a visit and of course, the eclipse. The only sounds besides the crickets was of Juan’s puppy barking in the distance, and Ethan the bull calf snorting at the fence at the scent of a stranger.

Good beer, good company, a lazy evening laced with the scents of the garden. It’s good to forget the horrors of the world, if only for a short while, and focus on what gives us peace.

The first night Shelly and her hubby were here was spent out under the gazebo, enjoying a great steak, fresh corn and a salad filled with tomatoes and eggs from the garden and hens. There was also wine. As I recall, a LOT of wine. Politics were discussed. Two die hard, non Trump voting Republicans, one Democrat turned Republican to try and keep him off the ballot, one die hard Independent.

It was a lively, alcohol fueled discussion. The best. We all went to bed still friends, still married.

The world has gone nuts, that, I’m sure we all agree with. It’s aging people, stressing people to the breaking point, without let up. Its been decades since I went to bed wondering if some crazy idiot was going to push the button while I slept. But, sadly, I’m there once again.

This stuff can’t be good for you.

To go out in the morning, while its still cool, and start the morning routine of feeding everyone, then off with the water wands to slake the thirst of the denizens of the gardens, is like a form of meditation. To end the evening with good food, good drink, good friends, and good conversation under the brilliance of the dark summer night sky filled with stars, the Milky Way blazing its path through them, is to escape the world, if only for a short while.

And, that has to be good for you.

Enjoy a tour of the ranch. Its better in person, if you’re out this way.

‘Collective Farm Woman’ melon. An heirloom from the Ukraine, I grew it for the name, but was blown away by the taste.

‘Sun Sugar’ cherry tomatoes. ‘Black Krim’, ‘Brandywine’ and ‘Carolina Gold’ along with the lone surviving ‘Sweet Banana’ pepper. Hubby raided the peppers before I came back with the camera.

Freshly picked lavender, being infused into simple syrup for lavender iced tea.

The gold melons are ‘Collective Farm Woman’, the little guys are ‘Minnesota Midget’.

Family portrait. Dad and mom, on the deck, daughter Sybil sitting, son Rowyn from SoCal.

Eclipse shadows thru the trees.

At the moment of totality, 1017, Monday, August 21st. It was mind blowing. The corona, seen with the naked eye, sent goosebumps up and down my entire body, it was so beautiful.

Momma teaching the little ones larceny in my garden. They seem to favour the overripe blackberries, which is fine with me.

The three new maples got planted in time for Shelly’s visit.

Summer evening skies. Every night is something different. All pictures taken in Pro mode with my S7. The only thing I do is crop. Amazing.

Where Sharon and I hung out tonite. And, where a whole lot of people come and hang out. Now, if I could just teach them to water….

The less loved bounty of summer, the hidden-in-the-hay-stack very large and angry wasp colony. Hubby took the brunt of the attack, 30+ stings. That evening, he exacted his revenge.

If you listen, you can hear my well begging for mercy, 1/4 mile down in the pasture. The heat was ON, baby. Been a few years since we’ve seen triple digits, and it was not pleasant.

The bee girls, trying to cool the hive.

Young bull, old dog. Standoff at the MR Corral.

Hope you enjoyed sharing a small slice of life at the Morgan River Ranch. Always a pleasure to share.

)

Dusty Craig

Written by

Hippie cattle rancher and dog lover. Independent but slightly left of centre. Atheist ethnic Jew. US Navy vet. Damp Oregonian. IG @morganriverranch

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