berries and fried dough
Yes. a Bloomin' Onion.
After the berries were stored in the cooler in the back of Wendy's car we headed to the charming Schaghticoke (Skat-eh-coke) Fair. It was getting ridiculously hot for September, and both Diane and I kept checking our phones for weather updates. She has a small farm and so do I, so if the upcoming storm the weather apps had been flashing warnings about all morning would be bad, we both had work to do. But the sun stayed out, and we walked around the small fair enjoying the cows, sheep, goats, poultry, horses, and displays. In the NY State Products building one department of Random Agricultural Goodwill that was handing out large 1/2 pound seed packets of winter rye. I grabbed three. I'll cover the entire raised-bed row system I have and let them grow as a cover crop for soil health. I never grew any sort of grains before, but when a gift horse hands you three bags of rye, you say giddyup.
I also managed to eat a third of a fried petal onion (AKA heaven), fried dough with apples on it, ice cream, and lemonade. My quota of fair food is up for the year—and I'm happy to report this morning was back to oatmeal and yogurt—but that was a fine act of debauchery. And as awful/wonderful as the food was, and as hot the evening: it was that time spent outside with friends that made me feel so much better than I had in days (That, and making myself sleep at least 7 hours a night). Not a sustaining remedy, but a good shot of temperance. Everyone once in a while you got to set down the pitchfork and go eat some crap with your friends. Does the soul good.
And as for that storm...what a doozy! Sky went black around dinnertime and what ensued was a few hours of off-an-on pummeling of rain, lightening and thunder. One crack was so loud Gibson dropped his Nylabone and jumped right into my lap on an easy chair. But the power stayed on, and the basement stayed dry, and I felt lucky to be in this place. Safe as houses, they say. They're right.