Summer

The conditions had to be perfect. We knew there was a ton of honey in the hive. June is the time to harvest, and it was already July. I recently had an unpleasant encounter with the bees when a photographer came to take some pictures of me, my garden, my birds and my bees. (It was late in the afternoon, I was nervous and, was he wearing after-shave? I’m not sure what set the bees off, but they got so feisty. The photographer was stung three times and a persistent bug managed its way into my hood and sent me running and yelping!) So, how to get back to the pleasant calm that husband Martin and I had on our April visit? 

Advice from fellow beekeeping friend Ilse, who tends bees and chickens at Sky Farm Red was taken: “Visit the bees between 12 and two, be super clean with no scent and freshly laundered bee suits.”

An offer of help from Bee Buddy Bruno was accepted.

So on a recent sunny day, we suited up, sipped our pre-hive-tending-calming beer and went for it.

Still finding new ways to use up all my Farmer's Market finds.  I love green beans and always buy so many, I could eat them with every meal.

I made these up as a little pre-dinner appetizer and they disappeared.  They were fantastic.  The kids proclaimed they tasted just like French fries and gobbled them up. 

The beans are crunchy and crisp and because they are a vegetable, you feel a little less guilty popping them in your mouth!

Really, it is too hot to write. (No, my “office” in the old farm house is not air conditioned.) I thought I’d seen heat, what with growing up in Washington, D.C., and spending summers in North Carolina in un-airconditioned cabins. But I guess I’m old. And I guess farming is really one of the worst activities to do in a heat wave (or humidity wave, I should say). I keep trying to get up earlier and earlier to harvest, but it doesn’t matter what time I get up—it’s already hot. (Doing anything in the middle of the day is out of the question.)

Today, three tee-shirts and two (outdoor) showers later, I’m sitting at my desk, but really none the cooler.

Earlier in the week, I was all blasé about this heat thing, and actually did some cooking. In fact, I turned on both the oven and the stove (several burners). I was all excited because our neighbor Ralph Savery brought us a bucket of quahogs. First I made a quick chowder with some of our fingerling potatoes, onions, and fresh thyme. Delicious. The next night I made spicy linguine with clams. There are still a few clams left, which Roy is threatening to turn into Clams Casino—if we ever turn the oven (or broiler) back on at this point.

There’s a new kid in my garden. Can you see that dainty little sprig of green right on top of that pretty scone? Well, that’s it. That’s the new kid. His name is Orange Thyme of the Thymus family. I’ve known his cousin, Lemon Thyme, for many years. For several summers, Lemon Thyme has been a favorite visitor in my kitchen, adding shindig to my sugar cookies, cha-cha to chicken, liveliness to my lemon bread and sassy flair to my salads. I love Lemon Thyme. When she’s not in my kitchen, she’s just outside the door basking in the sunshine.

And then, last weekend I spotted tiny Orange Thyme at the Kingfield Farmers Market in Minneapolis. I snapped up the potted herb and found a spot for it very near to Lemon Thyme. If all goes well, Orange Thyme should be making a perennial appearance in my garden.

I could not wait to snip a few stems of Orange Thyme and start baking. With a few stalks of rhubarb still in my refrigerator, I chose to make Rhubarb Scones with Orange Thyme, using my favorite base recipe for scones. I added a bit more sugar to balance the tartness of the bits of rhubarb that I stirred into the batter.