I didn’t pick strawberries or snow peas or garlic scapes yesterday, so it had to happen today. I’m glad I got out there tonight because there was an entire bowlful of produce just waiting to be picked. Stinker helped me eat a few strawberries and snow peas straight from the vines…she loves gardening! I actually ate raw snow peas for dinner tonight. It was all I could muster. I spent all yesterday afternoon in the kitchen making a strawberry rhubarb pie, a strawberry rhubarb custard crisp, homemade chocolate hazelnut spread, and Thai veggie burgers. Hubby went for a motorcycle ride yesterday that turned into more of an adventure than he bargained for, so he was late getting home for Father’s Day dinner. But all turned out well and he grilled corn and hot dogs (he really, really wanted hot dogs for Father’s Day) while Stepdaughter #2 and I ate Thai veggie burgers and some of the corn on the cob. Then we ate pie. I was so stuffed that we took Stinker for a long evening walk. It turned out to be a pretty pleasant evening, but I was wiped out at the end of the day.
I started my day early at the community garden before I went to the gym. There was a compost turning workshop that I wanted to attend, and I am still planting a few transplants (only peppers left to get into the ground!) and putting down cardboard to help smother the weeds. So I got out there a little early to lay down my cardboard and water the garden before the workshop. Then I helped turn the compost pile (which means I’ll get some of it when it is finished this fall). I wasn’t there for the initial building of the pile, but it has a lot of horse bedding, wood chips, kitchen scraps, and horse manure in it. We took the temperature before we turned it–140 degrees F! It was cookin’ right along, and in fact, you could see steam emerging from it was we dug shovelfuls from the pile:
As we turned the pile we watered it well to keep things cookin’ along. Then once we got it all finished, we took the temperature again–115 degrees F. Not bad! And not a bad view from our garden, either.