Tag Archive | rain


Rain! lots of it! Off and all all night and day and night, at least an inch altogether. I’m grateful for rain! I’m also grateful, delighted, surprised, that Stellar wanted to walk all the way to the top of the driveway this evening in the drizzle, and that he did so eagerly and barely stumbled, after eating reluctantly and refusing half his pill-treats. I’m grateful for his resilience, and another sweet day spent with this remarkable animal.

I’m grateful for whole roasted cauliflower, and the Dutch oven to roast it in, and the ingredients in house to make a delicious, healthful, meaty meal from this one cruciferous vegetable; and for the oven, and the gas, and the roof over my head…. I vowed to eat better, and I’m gonna start by committing to more vegetables and fewer carbs. No cold turkey this time, just modulation, moderation, and genuine concern for the well-being of this body with all its intricate processes and interconnections. This aging human body which will fail and die some day, any day, no way to know which day…

Not to be macabre, but just by way of motivation to make the most of this one precious day that will never come again. Part of that is making food good: A heart and gut healthy vegetable. I’ll be paying a bit more attention to eating more fiber for awhile. I combined two recipes to make this gorgeous crown, which Stellar and I both loved.

I whisked together olive oil, a couple tablespoons each of Dijon mustard and grated parmesan, dried basil and thyme, salt and pepper, and some minced garlic cloves, while the oven preheated at 400ºF. Trimmed the bottom of the cauliflower, set it core side up in the Dutch oven and rubbed sauce into the center, then flipped it over and coated the top and sides. Baked for 45 minutes with the lid on, added a few more tablespoons parmesan over the top, and baked uncovered for ten more minutes. Just tender enough to cut with the spatula. So simple, so delicious. I am grateful for cauliflower.


At last! Though probably barely measurable, we have rain. I’m grateful for a little rain with a lot of thunder and lightning.

Grateful for this year’s apricot harvest, more than I thought it would be after freezes last fall and this spring. There are still some on the tree for the birds, but a shirtful is about all I’ll get. Oh well! Better some than none at all.
Grateful for another day with this dog, grateful that he can still get ahead of me, and grateful that he’s always, always, stopped to look back.

Two Walks

Funny how our expectations and standards change as our conditions change. Stellar had a really good day, and got a long walk to the canyon this morning, and a medium walk around the sunset loop this evening. Some years ago, this wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal to me, but after the past year with him, and especially the past few months, it’s momentous. I’m grateful that he had the mobility for two walks today.

And in between Stellar’s two walk, there was a lot more to be grateful for, including a little bit of actual rain. Not more than a couple of minutes, but rain nonetheless; again, changing standards. In this climate induced drought, even a trace of rain and a cool breeze is something to celebrate. There may have been a rainbow, or trace of one, but it was time for me to come inside for … Zoom Cooking with Amy!

Tonight we cracked open the Gin Mayo she sent awhile ago, and put some in a spontaneous pimento-cheese. The main event was Bacon Jam. I never did hear tell of such a thing! We each made a different type of burger to try it on. She made a chicken burger, and I made a burger burrito because I didn’t have bread or buns. I formed the burger into a bratwurst shape and rolled it up inside a tortilla slathered with pimento cheese, bacon jam, and a handful of lettuce.

Rain, Glorious Rain!

Today, I’m grateful for rain! Since it started late last night, we’ve gotten a whopping .23″ by happy hour. Yes, that’s right, less than a quarter of an inch. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. I’m grateful for friends who sent celebratory texts this morning at the height of precipitation, grateful that I have friends who find joy and gratitude equal to my own in this feeble heavenly bounty. I’m grateful on behalf of the parched earth, and the brown mosses, desiccated lichens, and little green growing plants; and on behalf of the insects who need water to live also, and the birds and frogs who need the insects; and so on, my gratitude spans the infinite web of Nature in the high desert.

Sunday, July 8

Two inches of rain and hail in an hour flooded the new grill patio. Briefly.

Two inches of rain fell yesterday afternoon, pushing cookouts indoors for a few hours. In at least a decade of this gravel down and landscape cloth there’s never been a torrent like this one that washed it bare. Rivulets, rills, puddles, concentrations of debris. Fava beans have turned over their tops and had the bottoms of their leaves beat to hell from three separate hail storms. We stood on the far side of the valley on Pitkin Mesa and watched the deluge dump from the sky. “Look at that!” we said, pointing to our homes. Glad we were, we needed it. The poppy has grown four inches and formed its buds. The bees have one on guard and very few out.

Words cannot express the sorrow I feel for Marici, whose son died alone in a crash on July 4th. Ruth’s first grandson has come to meet the community at the age of one month, bringing joy in his tiny wake.

Domestic sunflowers bloom where I didn’t plant them. Scarlet runner beans have climbed the trellis and are now in glowing bloom. First buds of potatoes are showing as they’ve grown to the top of the barrel.

A single red poppy among onions and carrots opens slowly in this morning’s muted sun. I thinned two small beets from the ragged patch. Parsley grows bushy, basil regrows after the first batch of pesto. These leaves took a beating from the hail. Many others whose damage was not apparent right after the storm show bruising or tears. The garden cart, already full of potting soil, is filled with water.

Willows in the bottom of Buck Canyon are flattened from the storm.

Drenching rain highlights the colors in the junipers

Moisture calls attention to details previously unseen.

… like this lichen covered round rock, lying unnoticed on the forest floor until rain revealed it.

The gulleywasher rearranged familiar paths, banking soil around growing things, undermining buried rocks.

Yesterday’s torrential rain has lifted the oppressive anxiety of fires, and we all move through today with a lighter heart.