That must have hurt

Many people do not know that a hen will lay an egg almost every day even if you don't have a rooster. Many vegetarians known as vegans do not eat eggs because they considered them young chicken embryos. We are vegetarians but feel better knowing that no matter how long a hen sits on an infertile egg it will not become a chick. Unless a hen goes "broody" and refuses to leave her clutch of eggs (actually laid by several hens sharing the same nest box) most of them lay the egg and go on about their business with no further thought for the thing.

If you keep chickens you know once in a while you will find an unusual egg. Sometimes there's an anomaly in the color of tinted eggs. All eggs start out as white and get "colored" as they are extruded, so to speak. Sometimes they are asymmetrical. The smallish egg on the right is delivered by Stefania, a White Crested Black Polish. This is the size all young hens lay, the eggs increasing in size as they mature. Stefania seems to be stuck in puberty.

We suspect one of the Dark Brahmas laid the gigantic egg you see spanning my husband's hand. (And we have large hands.)

Here the big egg is in perspective with our normally large eggs. Ouch!

More about Asparagus Beans

The Red-Seeded Asparagus bean is a Chinese heirloom more closely related to Cowpeas than green beans. I've seen it in Asian and specialty markets sold in bundles. I got mine for $2 from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds in Missouri. You can visit them online at http://www.rareseeds.com/

You can pick them at 1-2 feet when they are still young--but I warn you they grow very fast! So sometimes we end up eating them when they are a yard long! The seeds inside are small and delicious and they do not get stringy as some beans do. Definitely a fun vegetable that should be on your list to try.

It's not yarn

No, this isn't bulky yarn...it's a bean! Farmer Rick demonstrates the lengths our beans go to please us. This is our first year to try asparagus beans on the trellises. You don't need many to make a meal. They vine just like green beans and their flowers are a pretty pink. When the bean is young you might mistake it for stems of asparagus when cut up in the saute pan. However I think they are better tasting when they get longer and puffier and can absorb sauces similar to a good penne pasta.

Lack of sensability

Look who was nestled in an empty flowerpot on the patio! We relocated Mr. Black Widow spider to the woods along our creek where we are less likely to interract. You can recognize this spider's web as an erratic fiber construction, having little architectural sensability. Think of what Jackson Pollock might have created if he had been a sculptor instead of a painter.

I knew the spider was around, having seen the chaos of webbing the hummingbirds pull off my office window to use in building their lichen nests. Once I found a large female under my wheelbarrow in the garden, but by the time I came back with a ten-foot pole she had disappeared.

Wherever I have lived, I've cultivated a deep respect for spiders. I carry the ones found inside outside, and try not to disturb their webs. One summer I kept walking through a large (and beautifully architected) web that appeared across the kitchen door portal. After several collisions the spider redesigned the web with an arch to accommodate my head. We were able to coexist.

I have pondered how similar my beliefs are to Jainism. The Jains believe that all living beings possess a soul and thus great care and awareness is required in going about one's activities. According to Wikipedia "Jainism is a religion in which all life is considered worthy of respect and it emphasizes this equality of all life, advocating the protection of the smallest creatures".

The male Black Widow is much smaller than the female. He appears about life size on your screen. Both can be recognized by the hourglass icon that screams "danger!" In addition to a lack of homemaking skills, they are not too good at relationships either. I believe they get their name from the fact that after intercourse the female spider consumes the male. I will not judge them for what makes no sense to me, as I probably make no sense to them. Some days I don't even make sense to myself!

Water, clear as glass

Here's a vertical panorama (stitched together by my camera's software) of my foot three feet under water yesterday before sunset. Such is the quality of water here, both in the river and our pioneer well--a constant 65 degrees and clear as glass. In the daylight the Frio shimmers with a tinge of blue-green like the color of Coke bottles from childhood.

This 4th of July I am thankful for the river, and a life that allows me to visit it daily.

As passes Spring, so passes two Golden Girls

She had been swimming with us a couple days before. We knew she was slowing down and attributed it mostly to arthritis and the searing 100 degree heat, somewhat unusual for this time of year. She was spending more time indoors, enjoying the air conditioning.

Tuesday my golden girl refused to get up and turned away from food, although she was still interested in drinking water. She'd been out a little longer the day before than we'd intended, perhaps she was suffering a heat stroke.

Wednesday morning there was no improvement, so we took her to the hospital and blood work showed her glucose way down and her liver enzymes higher than they'd ever seen. Her liver had stopped functioning, probably due to liver cancer. We brought her home and I held her in my arms. She passed at 3:40 p.m.

Utah was the last of my dog family representing my long life lived elsewhere. She was 13 years old. Yes, there still is the husky wolf who never fit into that pack. Our other two dogs acquired here miss her companionship. She got along with everyone. Memories come flooding in, too much to write here.

The heat has been getting to me, too. I'd been thinking about cutting my hair and letting it go grey in an acceptance of middle age. With the curls stretched out, it just made the 10 inches required for a donation to Locks of Love. I've only had really short hair twice, both as a form of grieving: The day John Lennon was shot, and the day of my divorce from a youthful marriage that wasn't working out.

It took about twenty phone calls to find a salon with an opening on Saturday afternoon, and it was two hours away. My husband was supportive. About two blocks from the destination, a huge lightning bolt zapped from the sky close to our car, which sent the traffic light into blinking mode. The salon was in darkness, and the stylist assured me she couldn't cut my hair in the dark. I reminded her that scissors weren't electric, and that I had made a half-day round trip just to get this done. Candles were brought out, like a solstice ritual. The ponytail was snipped.

It did not turn out like the picture I brought with me, but I'm glad it's gone. It's like feng shui for my head. I'm also glad it's going to be a gift to some child, who needs some gold. Gone is the tug of weight on the back of my neck. But now I feel like I have a hat on top of my head. Guess I'll get used to it with time. This morning my neighbor let out a gasp as I took off my hat in the garden.

So, two Golden Girls have passed...one to Rainbow Bridge, and the other into the next phase of life, whatever that is. At least hair can grow back. Utah, you hold a special place in my heart, and I miss you greatly.

Chocolate's cousin and eat your greens!

Here's a sweet little flower that's in the chocolate family. It's called Mexican Mallow (Hermannia texana) although it's not really a mallow at all. It's an endemic, meaning it's found only in my part of the Hill Country. Actually, I've not seen it anywhere other than my own property. I love the bright orange petals, which never unfurl any farther than pictured, and the way they hang. The seed pod is very sculptural, too.

The flower seems to like the drought, and has proliferated in the short grass prairie, even sending some scouts across the creek into the oak-mesquite savanna. It's very interesting to observe our property divided in half by a creek, where each side has an almost entirely different collection of forbs. A visiting geologist once put forth the theory that the creek is actually a fault line.

We have been reworking our drip irrigation system to even out the pressure between the various gardens. The San Marzano paste and Chadwick cherry tomatoes are laden with green fruit, peanuts are up, and eleven kinds of melons and winter squash have a nice start. We have our first head of cauliflower and the blackberries are starting to ripen. The bok choy has taken a hit in the heat and will soon become salad for our sheep and chickens, but the amazing chard just keeps on keeping on.

I made a delectable dinner the other night for some friends of chard, raisins, and walnuts sauteed in brown butter tossed onto whole wheat linguine, and topped with Parmesan. I think chard has become tied with kale as my favorite vegetable. I am amazed at how few people (or restaurants, for that matter) cook greens which provide so many nutrients. Most people tell me they just don't know how to cook greens. The secret? Wilt them with garlic sauteed in some olive oil.