I have a ton of pictures to sort through and edit from the vacation to Door County that we took with my family a couple of weeks ago, but in the meantime I'm here with garden-related things. Do you see the squirrel in the first photo? That's my corn he's got in his mouth there. Ugh. Can someone buy me a BB gun for my birthday? I also planted sunflowers all along the fence but those two are the only ones that survived the squirrels' wrath. 

Alan seems to think that mid-August means that we can start talking about fall, but I try my best to strictly forbid such things until at least September for goodness sake. I mean, just now is the garden in full swing with bowls full of ripe things being carried inside regularly. We're eating peanut butter and homemade raspberry jam sandwiches, plucking and drying chamomile as it comes in, and enjoying homegrown carrots, tomatoes, jalapenos and cucumbers in all kinds of things. These are the days I'll dream of all winter long, I'm sure of it. 

The raspberries always start coming in like that top picture. You ration them and slap wrists when someone grabs for the last one. Then suddenly you have so many raspberries that by golly you just filled a bowl yesterday but if you don't go out again to pick today another bowl full will go to the birds. Good thing we love raspberries in absolutely everything over here. So far there has been raspberry pie (the Hoosier Mama recipe, what else), raspberry honey sauce for drizzling on pancakes which was later also used to make a killer raspberry lemonade, raspberry and honey freezer jam, and of course raspberries as a garnish (on a grain-free almond lemon pound cake with honey vanilla buttercream for my sister's baby shower).  

If you stand out in the yard for long enough they just sort of draw you in. Every time I glance out the window I see Indy out there picking and eating. Alan even helped us fill a bowl the other day, and when my mom and dad stopped by on Saturday they ended up picking alongside me as well. Sometimes during Indy's nap Tenny and I will stand out there and pluck ripe berries off the canes, him opening his little mouth like a bird in expectation. What good and delicious memories we're making.