August angst...

I complain as bitterly as any about our heat and humidity and how I long for the ease of cooler days.  But in actual fact, August as it passes is bittersweet for me, signaling as it does the beginning of the end of summertime.

For the most part I am in complete agreement with Henry James who said...

Summer afternoon-summer afternoon:to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language."

Why yes,

I do have a child attending UT Austin just at the moment.  So hopefully you'll find it understandable that I'd want to capture this "Longhorn Moment" in my gardens.

OK so technically these aren't burnt orange flowers, but close enough.  Go, Horns!

Because if there is one plant (other than succulents in a pot) that I don't shy away from planting "late" in the season here, it is caladiums.  Caladiums are part of the Araceae family, which means they are related to Jack in the Pulpits.  I suppose you could think of them as the flashy branch of the family? (Every family has one!)

You probably knew caladiums originally come from South and Central America. But did you know they've been in cultivation in Europe since the late 18th century?  Take that, tulips!  And did you also know that most of them found in these parts are bred in Lake Placid Florida?  I had no idea.

Caladiums work in Texas in the summer.  They are very heat tolerant, the newer types will handle at least some summer sunshine, and though caladiums aren't politically correct (not native!  don't support pollinators!) or au courant in the least?  Though along with crepe myrtles, mimosa trees, monkey grass and St. Augustine lawns they represent a mostly abandoned version of how Austin landscapes used to look?

I simply can't get over the way their leaves catch the light.  Call me nostalgic and old fashioned, but this to me is just the way summertime in Austin is supposed to look.

Phew!

We've been struggling with water issues lately.  The development we live in has assigned watering days and our duly designated day had notably featured such low water pressure that our sprinkler system was not functioning well, if at all.

This is not new to our area and there are folks here who simply let their lawns go unwatered in the summertime, resulting in a predictably sere look.  After we'd taken our grassy lawn out however, we'd gone to the trouble to fill the spaces with natives and close neighbors that would hopefully support a variety of bugs, birds and other critters.  So we weren't really OK with the idea of watching it all die off, even seasonally.

And yes, the natives do tolerate the heat and low water pretty well but there aren't many of them that tolerate heat and NO water, which is what the end of July through mid August had on offer.

Until last night that is.  Last night we got a little over an inch of rain at long last.  Every square foot of our property was well watered for the first time in weeks.  It reminded me of how difficult it is and always has been to farm or ranch or even garden in Central Texas, if rain is all you have to count on for watering.  Maybe it's just me but I honestly thought I heard our Meyer lemons giggling quietly this morning, giddy with relief.

A final note, apropos of nothing else?

This is why I keep garlic chives (Allium tuberosum) in several spots in my garden beds.  Not because they tolerate the heat (though they do), not because I use them in cooking (which I don't often enough), but rather because they do this on occasion:

Something about the abundance of delicate white blossoms leaves me a little weak in the knees.  I'm guessing I'll try to have some of these on hand anywhere I garden from here on out.

Triple Digits

That's right - they're here.  Triple digit temperatures.

And, yes.  You are astute to notice. That thermometer is not registering 100, it is showing about 99.5 degrees.  But.   It is hanging in the deep shade.

Eye to the Sky

I at least tried to get some sort of a shot of the recent super/perigee moon.  I'm not set up for night time photography here, plus our view of the night sky is (pleasantly) obscured by tall trees for the most part and (not so pleasantly) by haze this particular evening. Those excuses in place?  Here is what I have to throw out there as record of an amazingly close-up (in appearance) moon the other night.

Our first glimpse as the moon just began to clear the hazy clouds coloring the horizon.

A little later, a bit more height in the night sky, and more detail began to emerge.

Past that?  Our weather forecast has returned to all too familiar territory.  It is nearly July after all, so this is nothing if not seasonable, but still.  Sigh....  The slightly cooler summertime temperatures were sure fun while they lasted.

I push my planting "calendar" well into June with transplants and late seedings-in that I would ordinarily get done in cooler Springtime weather.  Unfortunately for me, in that cooler time of year I'm hiding indoors from the slutty awful oak trees and their attempts to forcibly pollinate my nose.

Now that the triple digits have arrived?  Even stubborn folk like me know better than to do anything other than attempt to provide extra water, occasional shade and potential screening off from hungry deer.

Even the weeds get discouraged in July, or so I pretend because even when I get out before the sun is UP to weed, it is quickly too hot by my standards to do anything other than threaten them verbally.  Which I do quickly and then retreat back into the shade.

Iced coffee anyone?

Self Portrait for the Summer Solstice

For the Longest Day

Love the earth and the sun

and the animals,

despise riches, give alms

to everyone that asks,

stand up for the stupid

and crazy, devote your

income and labor to others,

hate tyrants, argue not

concerning God.

Walt Whitman

I like to think that at least when it comes to the photography here, I mostly stay out of the way. Granted, I am the only photographer for this blog, but the images come from me, they are not of me.  I feel that is a distinction with a real difference.

Today however, as I was attempting to get just the right angle on the sun as reflected on the pool in back, I inadvertently included my own partial reflection, as represented by two arms holding a camera in front of a face (photo below - lower right).  

This writing here is so much a reflection of who I am I figured it was fine, at least this once, to let my actual reflection be part of the picture.

Happy Summer Solstice, everyone. Thanks for reading (and commenting!) here at Austin Agrodolce. 

  

Collected

Cool, calm and collected, that is the ideal for the modern woman, yes?

Well, one out of three ain't too bad.  When it comes to "collected"  I have quite a bit going on.  I'm not sure where or when it started, but somehow I got the idea that once I had two of anything, it was imperative to get a third and officially begin a "collection".  

Take these for example.  Souvenir place plates.  These specimens, hung on the walls around my laundry room, help lighten the slightly murdery mood that can develop as a side effect of forced drudgery.

The laundry room art display keeps the plates safely out of line of sight of less sentimental/more critical eyes in the house.  At the same time, they serve as reminders of days long ago when I would get a special allowance from my parents as part of our family vacation trips.

My Mom encouraged the practice because she wanted me to learn how to budget and save.  Truth be told I usually got back home after a vacation trip with most of that "special" money still burning away in whatever passed for my pockets those days.

My Dad encouraged the souvenir fund process because it ensured I was a more enthusiastic ally in his quest to stop at every "World's Biggest Ball of String" or "Davy Crockett's Cabin" road side attraction along the way.

Was I interested in said string or reconstructed cabin?  Nope, not in the least, but every one of these places either was itself entirely comprised of, or at least prominently featured a Gift Shop as part of the touristy fun.

As a child, I was all about Gift Shops and Museum Stores.  I speculate I single handedly kept several Taiwanese companies profitable during most of the late 60's.

Not that I needed another tiny photo album, coin purse or teensy cast iron skillet to bolster my sense of innocent wonder, but when said items featured the stamped or painted rendition of some place we had just visited as a family?  The instant nostalgia was often too much to pass by.  

What I was not able to buy during all those years were the omnipresent souvenir place plates.  As a child, I was forced to stick to shopping the smaller items with their matching price points.   And although I carefully eyed them at each stop, the souvenir plates I truly coveted were big ticket items, scaled for folks with deeper pockets (and potentially as yet undeveloped ironic tendencies).

Ostensibly ignoring announcements about how much longer I had to shop from my parents, I would let the pressure mount as I carefully balanced my desire to buy myself something wonderful that I was already holding in my hand, against the wish to have however much money that something wonderful cost stay right in my pocket, banked against some future better purchase at our next unscheduled stop.

That was then.   Now I happily scan the shelves at thrift stores for cast off souvenir plates.  The time spent reminds me of minutes stretching into hours standing blissfully gazing into glass cases and slowly rotating wire racks in various gift shops along our vacation routes.

Now, when I am struggling Sisyphean style at getting dirt back out of things only to be reused and resullied, I can look around and thoroughly enjoy being haunted by the Ghosts of Gift Shops Past.

How about you?  Were you a gift shop devotee as a vacationing child?  Are you still subject to impulse buys while "on the road" that would never tempt you in a million years on a regular day?  Feel free to confess your best/worst buys in the comments section.   I like to think we're all friends here....

DIMF

{Did It Myself, FINALLY!}

I adore looking at photos on the interweb of before and after DIY projects. It encourages my belief that some day soon I too will take one of the many objects cast aside by previous owners currently collecting dust in my house and refashion or repurpose it into a productive and creative new life.

The potential for such dramatic makeovers combined with the pleasure I derive in treasure hunting is the rationale behind (way too many) trips to second hand and thrift stores on my part. In the current economy, I'll stand by that approach as making a lot of sense.

I typically hurtle myself into two obstacles when it comes to DIY execution, however. First, it often takes me years to get a project started, much less completed.

While I am fabulous at seeing the potential in objects I lack great organizational skills. This means I do not have any sort of neatly arranged workshop area filled with the kinds of materials I would need to tackle many projects.

The second obstacle, and this one is much harder to address, is a generalized lack of the sort of editing discipline necessary to express a coherent viewpoint. This makes it difficult at times to keep every room in the house from randomly filling with TUPT (Tiny Unrelated Potential Treasures).This little footstool is one small project I recently completed. I replaced the old needlepoint covering and tacks with a reworked wool pillow top I had on hand that coordinates with other pillows already at use in the room.

I'd be more self congratulatory (because I am, indeed, pleased with how it turned out) but that sense of victory is tempered by the realization it took me nearly two years between when I purchased the piece and when I got around to doing anything with it.

Perhaps it isn't perfect, but that is another small victory for me as I am a recovering perfectionist. Working on that piece and then letting it go as "good enough" without using the "I can't get it to exactly where I want it" as an excuse to never begin, is an accomplishment on its own.

I am also feeling pretty good because recently I got one area of our house completely cleared out after allowing it to collect flotsam and jetsam including stuff "stored" from/for two adult children and other detritus from thrift store runs that had accumulated over a period of nearly 5 (that's right, FIVE) years. I'll be resting on those laurels for a while and deservedly so.

I go up there every so often now just to stand and stare at the lack of chaos. And smile. Yeah. I'm that dork.

Because not that I have any choice but I'm pretty sure I'm not ready for September in any way, shape or form. But that's mostly OK. When the feeling I ought to be doing something more strikes, I just go look at that footstool or the neatly cleared upstairs area until it subsides. Fortunately so far, it always does.

How about you? Does the reappearance of "back to school" ads send a new surge of energy coursing through you to tackle projects long stalled? Or do they rather find you wishing you had another month of summer...

Summer Reruns

Back in the dark ages when I was young, summertime did not make for particularly great television watching.

There would be wonderful old movies on past a certain hour, but most of the prime time viewing fare featured reruns. Long before TIVO or DVR features allowed us to devise our own viewing schedules, it was not altogether unpleasant although totally mandatory somehow to sit together and watch our favorite episodes rebroadcast. Whatever choices we had made to watch a particular show during the regular season, it seemed unthinkable to watch anything else once the reruns began.

Seeing certain shows again could be a bit more of a relaxed experience however, especially while I was still young and naive enough not to have figured out that the stars of these shows, the people we tuned in to see, while they might be placed in predictable enough jeopardy, would not ever be killed off in a weekly episode.

Yes, for an otherwise bright little girl, I admit, it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that the main characters in a series would never actually die on the show. For whatever reason my family mostly only watched TV together, we never really talked about what we were watching. So there I would be, sitting casually to belie the fact I was tensely holding my breath, pretending I did not care in the least if my favorite character might have been captured or worse, fatally wounded, in the mayhem that drove any particular week's story line.

Looking back, I suppose it could be considered to my credit that I'd bought in so thoroughly to that contract between viewer and show premise requiring the suspension of disbelief. It exerted such a strong unspoken hold upon me that I never really allowed myself to consider what would happen to story arc of the show if, for example, they did indeed let The Fugitive catch that one-armed man.While I am on the subject allow me to indulge my inner Old Biddy just for a moment. To all of you so swooney over Clooney and his endearing squinting up at you gaze first used to wide effect as Dr. Doug Ross on ER?

I will call your Clooney and raise you my childhood doctor-crush, the beleaguered Dr. Richard Kimble, played by ruggedly handsome David Janssen. That's right, I'm talking about The Fugitive, falsely accused murderer battling week to week to clear his reputation and bring justice to the one-armed man who had brutally killed his love and ruined his happy life.*Sigh*

What do girl crushes on serial television actors have to do with anything?

Bear with me. As I thought about what we would have for dinner tomorrow night, I realized it was time to attempt my own rerun, a do-over of my previously way-too-garlicky, too chunkily cucumbered, Tzatziki Sauce.

Oh all right...groan if you will...it IS a stretch. Go ahead. I'll wait. [.................] All finished? Feel better now? Great. Let's talk Tzatziki.

While super doses of Allium Sativum might seem just what the doctor ordered for a feeling of extra security while watching any of the vampire dominant shows available this summer, garlic can be quite the palate pummeler, rendering you incapable of tasting anything but. I wanted to try tzatziki again, this time without so much garlic to spoil the fun.My previous attempt had also been gently criticized for being too chunky. My definition of "finely chop" when it came to the cucumber, and what was the commonly held expectation of predominantly creamy smoothness in a Tzatziki sauce were at odds. I was determined to right those wrongs and bring the one-armed man to justice at las.... wait, no, where was I?

Ah yes. I wanted to try the delightfully seasoned lamb patties from the Butcher's case at Wheatsville again, this time with a more authentic Tzatziki sauce to serve alongside. A Tzatziki not plagued by garlic overload or too large bits of cuke. Off to the interweb I rode, to find another recipe to try.

And therein lies the rub, if not the sauce. There are as many versions of a Tzatziki sauce as there are television stars inspiring little girl crushes. [Results 1 - 10 of about 158,000 for tzatziki recipe] Some form of a creamy cucumber garlic yogurt sauce is served in so many different regional cuisines, you could go crazy trying to determine what would constitute an "authentic" version.

Unlike the locked down old school version of a summer rerun schedule, I had choices, way too many choices, about which direction to take the seasoning of the sauce.Mint? Which kind of mint? Oregano? Dill? Aaaargh!

What type of green bits did I want to add to elevate this concoction from garlic yogurt to that something more that is Tzatziki?

With so many different sets of directions to follow, there were way too many maps offered to choose much less chart a true course. After a bit of hand wringing over not finding that definitive recipe, I decided to abandon any quest for authenticity.

Tzatziki is a sauce that reflects the time and place and tastes of its maker. I felt liberated to prepare a sauce "to taste" and rightfully declare it my Tzatziki sauce.

I shortcut a day in the prep by using already drained and thickened Greek Yogurt as a base. I seeded and grated the cucumber this go-round. No more "not fine enough" chopping for me! I made a paste of part of one garlic clove, some oregano from the garden, and red wine vinegar with equal amounts of olive oil.

This last bit was inspired by a recipe coming from a young Greek woman who stated this was how her grandmother (and namesake) taught her to make Tzatziki. I had no-fat yogurt so figured the olive oil couldn't hurt. Many recipes call for the addition of lemon juice (except for those that don't!) so the acidity from the vinegar would not be so far fetched.

I may not know Tzatziki from tsathoggua, but I do know better than to mess with Greek grannies (knocks wood and throws salt preemptively over shoulder).

I ended up with a container that holds what looks like a perfectly respectable homage to Tzatziki. The elements in the sauce will spend the day and night together in the refrigerator, getting acquainted, so they can properly introduce each other tomorrow when they reappear beside the lamb patties. Whether or not the greatly reduced amount of garlic will stand in line politely with the rest of the flavors remains to be seen.It looks like Tzatziki sauce but how will it taste? Will the garlic insist on running the show? Will the cucumber bits be fine enough to please a studio audience? Tune in for the next episode of Austin Agrodolce when all will be revealed.

Sum Sum Summertime

A blogger I admire asked her readers recently to list in the comments section what they loved about summertime. My list quickly grew so long I decided to punt and post instead.

Here, in no particular order, is my non-comprehensive list of What I Love About Summer:
My birthday happens
HummingbirdsSchool is out
Shooting off fireworks (legally! really! The PowersThatBe didn't care so much about us kiddos being safe or escaping becoming tragically disfigured or potentially lighting up city block-wide conflagrations - oh those were the days I tell you)
Floating with hot sun on my back and cool water underneath me
Dragonflies
Painted toenails
Snow Cones (red ones are my favorite followed by purple - you?)
Cicadas singing in daytime
Tree Frogs singing at night
The way little kids have to yell SO LOUDLY when they play in the water
CaladiumsThe way walking into air conditioning from a triple digit afternoon makes my glasses fog up for a minute
Eating icy cool crisp salad greens outside
The smell of swimming pools
Visiting someplace that is SO NOT Texas The smell of Coppertone sun screen
Home grown tomatoesIced tea
Eating ice cream cones outside fast before they melt too much and drip onto your hand
Neighborhood 4th of July Parades How everybody looks slightly more sophisticated in sunglasses
Sandals
Cool tile floors on bare feet
Hunting for sea shells and wave tumbled glass at the beach
Ripe melon
Flip flopsSuntans (yeah yeah I know totally "what-do-you-want-us-to-all-die" politically incorrect but this is MY list - go make your own)
Cucumber sandwiches
Blinking in summer sun after seeing a matinee
The way that first taste of really cold beer tastes like Life in a Bottle

That will do for today. Feel free to share in the comments section how you feel about summertime. Do you love it? Hate it? What is your favorite/least favorite aspect of summertime? I really want to know!