Dog Day

"Let's do something with Lucy," Heidi suggested today, so I consulted a trusty local website to find the best things to with dogs around here. They pointed us in the direction of a state park which was the former farm of the Knox family who, along with their in-laws, the Woolworths, made their fortune in the early variety store business.

The weather was glorious and the park was perfection for pups-- we started at an acres large grassy off leash area where 20 dogs ran and played. Down one of the rolling trails was a sunny little pond where Lucy could swim, and we strolled through shady woods and across fields, past old farmsteads and houses and through a wedding until we returned to the parking lot, but not before we had fresh squeezed lemonade and baked this morning lemon madeleines at the dog friendly cafe on the premises.

Come to think of it, the park was pretty perfect for people, too.

Cardinal Rules

Heidi's folks have worked hard to create a lovely garden-like atmosphere in their back yard, and our summer visits always include lots of time relaxing outside. Of course many birds also enjoy the yard, and one of the frequent visitors this week has been the strangest looking cardinal I've ever seen. The poor little bird is completely missing her crest and the rest of her head feathers!

Her baldness gives her the appearance of a tiny vulture.


She gives the impression of being healthy in all other respects, especially her appetite, and the internet assures me that she is probably just the victim of a bad molt.  It seems that most birds lose and replace their feathers a few at a time all over their bodies during molting season, but on occasion, for unknown reasons, something goes haywire and all the plumage in one area falls out at once.

She should be back to normal in 8-10 weeks, but until then? She definitely stands out in the flock.

Salty

Heidi's parents invited us to a salt cave experience this afternoon.

Touted for improving respiratory health, anti-inflammation, and general relaxation, we were surprised that Gary and Louise wanted to go, but we were definitely along for the ride. Upon entering the unassuming strip mall shop front, dim lights, soothing music, and pleasant incense met us. We had to sign a few waivers and acknowledge a page of rules and disclaimers, but even the paperwork was not really a buzz-kill. The place was welcoming in an artificial Disney sort of way, and staring at the heavy door guarding the entrance to the faux cave, I suggested an escape room for our next activity.

When three blissed-out people in their 70s floated out and proceeded to make follow-up appointments, I was definitely intrigued, and craning my neck to catch a glimpse inside, I was more than ready to take my foot-protected self right into the cave. Our turn came soon enough, and after picking our way across a beach of loose salt and settling ourselves into zero gravity lawn chairs, we
listened to the story of how Polish salt miners and their super health revealed the benefits of time spent in such a chamber and learned how we would soon be enveloped in an invisible blizzard of micro salt particles.

In perhaps the most stunning turn of events, we were informed that no talking or even whispering was allowed during the 45 minute session. And then the door clicked closed and the relaxing music seemed to grow louder, so we pushed back our reclining chairs, grabbed the fleece blankets, and stared dreamily at the aura lights twinkling from the ceiling.

The Fourth of July

We spent our day surrounded by family at a holiday picnic with dogs and toddlers splashing in the pool and tumbling across the shady lawn.

What a privilege!

Happy Birthday, America.

What Daddy Likes

Heidi and I both have Upstate New York roots: she grew up in Buffalo and my dad was a Little Falls boy, born and bred just a couple hours east. It makes for a compelling cultural confluence; there are just so many vaguely familiar elements to the time we spend up here that something almost always seems to conjure up my dad.

For example last night we were talking about food we ate as children and lost family recipes. "My mother made a goulash that Gary loved," Louise told us, "but we've never been able to recreate it. He's always excited when he sees it on the menu, but he's always disappointed."

This conversation came at the end of a story about how the family was so poor when she was growing up that Louise's mother made spaghetti sauce first with ketchup, and then with tomato soup. "The first time I had real spaghetti I couldn't stop eating it," she told us."It was so much better than anything we ever had!"

"My dad used to love goulash when I was little," I said, "and it was made with, guess what? Tomato soup! I wonder..."

"Oh my gosh!" Louise interrupted. "Maybe tomato soup was the secret ingredient!"

"It makes sense," I replied. "I do know how to make it. It was one of the first things I learned to cook, along with creamed chipped beef, because they were my dad’s favorites."

Guess what's on the menu for Thursday?

Tucking In

We were roadtripping to Buffalo today, and as excited as I was to hit the highway, listen to some podcasts, eat car snacks, and sing really loud to the radio, and, of course, see my in-laws, I was concerned about my garden.

After
all
that
rain,

the last week has been
really hot
and really dry,

and my little plants were showing some signs of stress. With no rain in the forecast until Friday at the earliest, I rose early this morning to water for at least an hour and add some mulch to keep those guys as green as possible.

It was kind of a magical way to start the day.

Futures Market

We are leaving town tomorrow, so our trip to the farmer's market was meant to be brief: a couple of tomatoes for dinner and some peaches for breakfast before we hit the road. We had quite a few more items on our to-do list.

BUT, those tiny little pickling cucumbers were irresistibly cute.

I did a quick calculation in my head: brine them today...
pickles in a week?
Just in time for our homecoming!

Sold to the lady with more vision than sense.