Its official...

Okay, I cannot deny it anymore.
The sun is rising later and later. 10pm daylight is a thing of the past.
And most blatantly, my pumpkins are turning orange.

Yes, folks, fall is upon us!

I think fall is my favorite season. Leaves turn brilliant colors and make footsteps noisy with their crunch-crunch. Hot apple cider and pumpkin-flavored everything abound. The crisp mornings are perfect for a run. Scarves and hats become standard dresscode. Candycorn! Harvest celebrations. Salmon return to the Northwest rivers en mass. Fall is fantastic!

That said, can't we have a few more hot hot days that necessitate a swim in Lake Crescent? I want to wear t-shirts without layers. I want more raspberries and apricots. I want the sun to wake me up too early. I am a creature of light; as much as I love all that fall is, I never get over the more and more absent sunshine.

Okay, perhaps I'm being a tad dramatic. After all, I know your Midwesterners out there have been waiting oh so patiently for respite from the swelter of this past summer. And our tomatoes and peppers are just starting to burst with color and girth and make our neighbors jealous---i mean excited for what we will share. And the cloudless sky has been quite diligent in her appearance lately.

Alas, I say, "Fall, you're dropping hints that you are en route and I am thrilled to greet you once again, but let me wipe the sweat from my brow and the tomato juice from my chin for just a bit longer."

Devil's Shoelace Custard Pie

Trailing blackberries (Rubus ursinus)--I may have mentioned--are one of the most delicious native berries in the Pacific Northwest. They are kind of like nature's sweet tarts. However, you have to work to get them; they are so tiny that you can pick for well over an hour and end up with only 2-3 cups. Also, they are prickly; they like to vine hither and dither all over the ground. During harvest, a trip and fall into a spikey mess is quite possible (hence the name devil's shoelace). That said, they are SO worth the trouble.

I've had my sights set on making a trailing blackberry pie this year. I was telling my dad about this vision and he started to reminisce about all of the fruit pie's that his mom, my Grandma Arlene, would come up with. My grandma continues to hold the "bestest cook award" in my life. Although all of the grand kids are adults, she and my grandpa keep the cookie jar full for our visits and make sure no one leaves their home underfed. Oh, and did I mention her homemade catsup?

So, of course, when my dad spoke of pie, I knew it wasn't just pie. It was custard pie. I can't say that I've had a lot of custard pie in my life. My memory of custard is of something akin to ice cream, but richer, creamier, and often served with strawberry shortcake . However, I knew my dad wouldn't steer me wrong.

Custard pie filling is quite simple--like most delicious things. Its a mixture of cream or milk, eggs, and sugar. My dad was also excited about the idea because of our access to super farmfresh eggs and creamy raw milk here on the ol' Olympic Peninsula. That settled it, trailing blackberry custard pie!

It was no mistake. The rich creamy custard went perfectly with the tart little berries. I have no doubt that custard would compliment most fruit pies. So, hop to it. Thanks, grandma!

Devil's Shoelace Custard Pie
inspired by Ray and Arlene and adapted from Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook

1 pie crust (prebaked for 8 minutes at 450 degrees)
1 1/2 c. trailing blackberries
4 eggs
1/2 c. sugar
1/8 tsp salt
2 tsp. vanilla
2 cups of cream or whole milk

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Lightly beat eggs with a fork. Then, stir in sugar, vanilla, and salt.
3. Gradually, stir in milk until mixture is thoroughly combined.
4. Spread berries in prebaked crust and set pie pan on the oven rack--this will minimize spillover.
5. Pour filling into pastry shell over berries. Bake for 40-45 minutes or until knife inserted near center comes out clean.
6. Cool for 1 hour or chill in fridge.
7. Yum.

Bountiful tasties...

Behold the passion of garlic!

On Wednesday, I got some lovely produce from the Port Angeles farmer's Market that inspired a "The Pacific Northwest is so awesome in the summer" celebratory meal for Justin's return from the backcountry. Our beets and potatoes or not quite ready for the picking, but I got some Red Norland potatoes and beets from Christie Johnston; along with fresh dill and celery from Nash's and Lazy J Farm. Although I'm not farming right now, I love to support these amazing - mostly female powered - delicious makers.

For the meal, we ate:

Baked dill-schmeared spring chinook (salmon)

Roasted potato/beet salad

Trailing Blackberry custard pie

Roasted Potato/Beet Salad

a small armful of red potatoes
two red beets
5 cloves of garlic (minced)
a handful of fresh basil
3 green onions (chopped)
olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
1. Cut potatoes and beets into rustic chunks
2. Toss potatoes, beets, and garlic in a bowl with enough olive oil to coat the mixture. Add about 2 TBS. of vinegar.
3. Put coated veggies on a baking sheet and roast until soft and brown.
4. Toss roasted veggies with onions and chopped basil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and chill in the fridge. Enjoy.

Guess Hoo! Hoo!

While searching for Canada thistle (Cirsium arvense) on an alder flat along the Duckabush River last week, something caught my eye as it took flight. It soon landed in a nearby tree and, to my surprise, was a large owl. For about 40 minutes, it looked curiously around its setting--mostly in the direction of noisy squirrels and song birds.

We knew that it was either the endangered spotted owl or the "invasive" barred owl. Although the barred owl is usually larger, they look quite similar in marking, so the best way to id them is by their sound. In those 40 minutes, the thing made nary a peep--or hoot rather. Try as we might to entice a little song, we couldn't get it to respond to our terrible calls with anything more than a skeptical blink of the eyes.

The Park's owl biologist later identified it as the barred owl. Although these guys are taking over what's left of the spotted owl habitat out here, it was pretty special to get to spend time with this creature.

What day is it?

Dosewallips. Seattle. Pittsburgh. Duckabush. Our little yellow house.

That pretty much sums up that last few weeks. First, I got to spend time deep in Olympic National Park; we clamored over charcoal stumps and unscathed vine maple flats, where fires had burned last summer, in search of the not-so-elusive weeds: Geranium robertianum (stinky bob) and Cirsium arvense (canada thistle). The sun shone so brightly and intensely each day that I could barely resist jumping in the glacial fed Dosewallip River.

Luckily, when Justin and I arrived in Pittsburgh for his cousin's wedding, there was plenty of water fun to be had. Not only did we go to the biggest pool I've ever seen, but we also spent a day (along with his family) at a theme park with waterslides (and funnel cake)! I didn't realize until then, that there are very few outdoor pools here in the Pacific Northwest; I spent many-a-summer during my youth hanging out at the pool, perfecting my cannon ball, and eating sweet tarts from the snack bar. I know the weather here doesn't really inspire summer pool lounging and that we have lots of naturally occurring bodies of water to enjoy, but nothing feels more like summer than hanging at the pool amidst the scents of chlorine and suntan lotion while taking in the sights.
I digress, Pittsburgh was more than a day at the pool. It was so nourishing to get to spend time with Justin's family and to explore the steel city. I have a crush on Pittsburgh with its old brick buildings, no nonsense attitude, Pamela's Pancakes, and Justin's family, friends, and familiar places.

The day we got back from Pittsburgh, I went back into the woods in search of more weeds. What a contrast!

Finally, I am home in our little yellow house. The garden has exploded and the tastiest native berries of the summer are now ripe ripe RIPE! Yes, I spent today at work picking thimbleberries and trailing blackberries--one for my mouth, one for the Elwha Project; one for my mouth, one for the Elwha Project....

A trailing blackberry pie is in the near future....stay tuned.

A fruitful occasion...

Last weekend, Justin and I had a wild and crazy Friday night. We stayed up until almost 2am...making jam! That's right, we were jammin'. We were physically exhausted the next day--probably a result of the late night, the hot and steamy kitchen, and the lbs. of strawberries consumed during the process.

I can't help it; the fleeting nature of summer fruit in combination with their sweet, juicy flavortasticness makes every bellyache worth the minor discomfort. Did I mention that, on the same day, we also received a bag of fresh apricots harvested from a tree in my parent's yard in Illinois? Bellyache...so worth it.

We attempted to make two varieties of strawberry jam: honey sweetened (with pectin) and sugar sweetened (without pectin). The honey sweetened jam turned out great! The sugar sweetened jam turned out to be a less viscous strawberry SYRUP--great for pancakes and french toast.

Happy Bellyache Season, friends!

Strawberry-Honey Jam
Yields about 5 pints

• 8 cups of strawberries, cleaned, with stems removed, and cut into halves
  
• 1 cup honey
• 4 t. Pomona’s pectin
• 4 t. calcium water made from packet included with pectin

1. Put strawberries and calcium water into a saucepan and bring to a light boil.
2. While strawberries are warmin' up (keep stirring), mix pectin into the honey.
3. When berries boil, which looks more like foaming, add honey and stir vigorously for 2 minutes.
4. Remove from heat and pour into sterilized jars.
5. Boil in a water bather for 10 minutes.

Don't forget to lick your fingers!

Our berry-processing center.

The garden grows!

Where do all of those seeds go?

So, I keep mentioning that we're collecting native seed in order to grow plants for "revegging" after the Elwha Dams come out. Well, those seeds have to go to a place where they can be--in my opinion-- magically transformed (aka follow the cycle of life) into PLANTS! Turns out, these seeds and eventual plants needs quite a bit of TLC. Hence, the existence of the Matt Albright Native Plant Center (aka Olympic Park's nursery).

This nursery was constructed especially for the Elwha's restoration; and it is quite cush! If I were a plant, I would want to spend my younger years soaking up the sun and on-demand water right here. That said, the plants wouldn't be flourishing like they are without Dave, the nursery manager, and all of the lover-ly volunteers that keep things cared for and moist. I get to spend about 50% of my time here too.

Me in a sea of green
(which all needs transplanting, want to help?)

The canyard: where the plants go to harden up.

A test: what plants will grow best in the worst sediment?