Since late June I've been foraging handfuls of chanterelles here and there from my secret spots in Evergreen Cemetery, but yesterday I brought home a true cache, and here is the frying pan to prove it.

 

And here is the salad bowl afterward . . . pole beans, purple on the vine but green after cooking; chopped kohlrabi and baby red onion; and sautéed chanterelles . . . all gifts of (baby) farm and (urban) meadow. Toss on a little olive oil, some rice vinegar, salt and pepper, chopped marigolds and mint, and what could be better?

Yesterday was relatively lazy. T and I went on our chanterelle walk in the morning, then took a trip to the fish market in the afternoon. Otherwise, we mucked around at home. I dug potatoes and harvested kohlrabi and lost my pruners in the bushes somewhere. I read a Robertson Davies novel and listened to baseball and roasted a pair of little mackerel (stuffed with oregano and preserved lemon; brushed with harissa). It was a pleasantly slow day.

Today I'll be back at my desk, messing around with Frost Place stuff and some copyediting, prepping for a class I'll be teaching next week. Eventually I'll get outside and mow grass and such. The weather is still cool and lovely, perfect for drying laundry and eating breakfast at the little cafe table and transplanting kale seedlings. I need to order garlic for fall planting . . . because fall is not so far away.