On Saturday, we had our yard sale, and for the proceeding 3 days, there was a great flurry at the little house in the big woods. Shannon and her dog, Holly, came on Thursday night. (Our dog, Liam, resigned himself to Holly’s exuberant presence. The cats did not.) All day Friday, Shannon and I washed items for the sale and organized what was already washed and packed so that we would be ready for Saturday. When Clif came home from work, he made terrific signs using poster board and stencils. We brought tables around to the front yard. We had money for the cash box. There was an ad in the local paper. Heck, I even swept the driveway. Would the weather hold?

Yes, it did. Saturday was a sunny day, cool in the morning but warm in the afternoon. There was only one problem. Hardly anyone came to the sale. For the most part, the people who did come bought something, and it was gratifying to see our things go with folks who would obviously enjoy them. However, when the day was done, there was a lot to pack in the car to go to Goodwill—it would take two trips to get rid of it all—and let’s just say we didn’t make very much money. We all wondered if perhaps it was too late in the season, and people just weren’t interested in going to a yard sale. There were several other yard sales listed in Winthrop, and I wonder if they did any better than we did.

Never mind! As Shannon noted, even though we are a family that can’t sell things and probably will never be rich, we are also a family that likes to look on the bright side. And here is the bright side of the yard sale:

First and foremost, we cleaned a lot of stuff from our basement room, and without the yard sale, we probably wouldn’t have had the motivation to do this. Now that so much has been cleaned from that room, Clif and I will continue the process, doing some each Saturday morning until the room is as clean as we want it to be. I cannot overemphasize what a good feeling this is. Because the room was so cluttered with things we no longer wanted, we could not use that room for anything else. And what would I like to use the basement room for? Why, a pantry, of course, with honest-to-God shelves so that I can buy in bulk and stock up on food when it goes on sale. Although our family is down to just Clif and me, I cook a lot, not just for us but for family and friends as well. Having a pantry that can be easily reached and organized will be, well, a dream come true.

Second, our friends Judy and Paul dropped by, and we got to chat with them.

Third, Tim, Farmer Kev’s father, came over to give us some corn and a melon. He had noticed we weren’t at the farmers market and stopped by to see if we would like some vegetables. When I tried to pay for them, Tim shook his head and waved me off. “Just take them. You’ve been so supportive of Kevin.” I think that very soon there will be a homemade apple pie for Farmer Kev and his family.

Fourth, we got to see how impressively easy it is to drop off things at Goodwill in Augusta. They have a special place for donations. You just drive up, and out someone comes with a big cart to collect donations. (This is also a somewhat sobering lesson on how much “stuff,” wanted and unwanted, churns through our society, but that could be a topic for a whole separate post.)

Finally, what a treat to have Shannon and Holly here for 3 days. And even though we worked really hard for those 3 days, we so enjoyed having them with us.

After the yard sale, we gathered on the patio. Clif grilled some burgers, and we steamed Farmer Kev’s corn, which was as sweet as only fresh corn can be. In fact, everything tasted so good. The crickets sang, the dogs ran and barked, and it didn’t start raining until we had long finished the meal and were ready to go inside.

There will be no more yard sales for us, but at least we have made huge progress in decluttering our house.

By late summer and early fall, the gardens at the little house in the big woods do not look their best. In truth, they are quite frowzy. (My gardens are at their peak in July.) Most of the flowers have gone by, and the slugs and snails have had their way, shredding the leaves of the irises and the hostas. The sweet, green dream of spring is long gone as the season shifts from warm to cool and eventually to very cold. Still, both my husband, Clif, and I agree that it is better to have tattered plants rather than plants that have been shaved down for their winter rest. Eventually it must be done, but I wait as long possible before giving the flowers their winter crew cut. Despite the tattered foliage, early fall still has some visual delights—bright red tomatoes and demure asters. And, on my walk this morning, I noted the large number of unripe winter berries and concluded it will be a good year for them. In late fall, I love to cut them and use them with pine in the box on our little deck.

Here are some pictures from the backyard:

On another subject…This weekend, we will be having what I have dubbed The Great Yard Sale. For the past couple weeks, I have been busy sorting and pricing items to put in the Great Sale. It is absolutely amazing what we have accumulated over the nearly 30 years we have lived in this house. I like to joke that our house is like a black hole—-what gets sucked in, stays in, and nothing escapes. Holy guacamole! The most incredible thing is that when this sale is over, and items either have been sold or have been given to Goodwill, our house will look virtually the same. No one would ever guess how much we have cleaned out. A sobering lesson on the tendency to accumulate “stuff” over the years.

My daughter Shannon will be joining us, and she has been doing some sorting of her own. She and her dog, Holly, will be staying with us for the next couple days, and it will be a treat to have them here, even though we will be working like crazy getting ready for the sale.

The weather forecast is good for this weekend. Fingers crossed that we sell lots of items and that those items will go to homes where people really enjoy them. (I admit to having a pang or two when I think about getting rid of so many sweet little things. But…)

So, I will not be blogging until next week, after the Great Sale is over. Readers, wish us luck.

The last weekend of August and, in effect, the last weekend of summer. My husband, Clif, and I are going to get as much out of this weekend as the weather allows, and we hope to do plenty of bike riding. On Saturday, our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike, are coming over for an anniversary meal. They have been married 3 years. Time flies, as the saying goes. We will be having a mostly Maine feast with steak from Wholesome Holmstead; Maine lobster for lobster rolls; corn on the cob from the farmers market; and new red potatoes from our own Farmer Kev. Dessert? Homemade chocolate ice cream pie. We’re keeping our fingers crossed for good weather. A happy Labor Day weekend to all of you.

From the New York Times: Mark Bittman brings his lunch to work, and he makes the case as to why you should, too. Plus, he gives some great lunch suggestions.

From the AlterNet: Fast food workers go on strike again. Their demands? A living wage, paid sick days, and the right to unionize. Other low-paid retail workers are joining them. Go, workers!

From another feather blogspot: Beautiful photos from a baking workshop.

From the Portland Press Herald: Two of Brooke Djony’s mouth-watering recipes using the fleeting bounty of late summer.

From NPR’s the salt: It seems that foodies have a long, long history. According to Michaeleen Doucleff, spices were used 6,000 years ago.

Last Sunday was one of those days that lives in a person’s dreams, especially in dreary March. The sky was bright blue with hardly a cloud to disturb it. The day was sunny and hot, but not too hot, and, more important, not humid. A perfect day for a bike ride from Hallowell to the Richmond town line, about 20 miles, round trip. We had planned to meet our friend Jill at the Liberal Cup for supper at around 4:00, so with our bikes in the car, we drove to Hallowell in the early afternoon and parked in the town parking lot by the Kennebec River.

In Hallowell, we picked up the rail trail and rode to Gardiner. The Kennebec was to our left, and the air still had the sweet, green smell of late summer, the smell of growing plants. We’ve ridden this route in early fall, and the smells are different, nuttier and less green as the plants wind down for their long winter rest.

The Kennebec—not wide, not mighty but lovely nonetheless—was as blue as the sky. I enjoy biking by fields and forests, but there is something extra special about biking along a lake or a river. Biking by the ocean is best of all, but since I live in central Maine, lakes, ponds, and rivers are what I get, and they are certainly good enough.

My husband, Clif, and I left plenty of time for dawdling along the way. I took pictures of flowers and the river, and he took pictures of doors for an upcoming photo exhibit of his that will be shown at Railroad Square Cinema in February 2014. At a little store in South Gardiner we stopped and bought homemade snacks and iced tea. Twice we left the main road for smaller roads that follow the river.

Even with our dawdling, we made it back to Hallowell in plenty of time to meet Jill. How good those fish and chips were, and the cold soda was especially refreshing.

As we Mainers would put it, Sunday was a finest kind of day.

Last night, Clif and I had dinner on the patio. Clif grilled some chicken, and with it we had Farmer Kev’s potatoes and corn from Jillson’s Farm. Everything was simply cooked—the corn steamed, the potatoes boiled, and the chicken brushed with olive oil, salt, and pepper. But how good it all was. When vegetables are that fresh, they don’t need any embellishment, and vegetables are only that fresh once a year for a relatively short period of time. So in the summer, most of our vegetables come from our CSA share and the farmers market.

After dinner Clif started a fire in the fire pit, and we had S’mores for dessert. They were certainly not as wholesome as the vegetables, but they were pretty tasty nonetheless. As we ate, the crickets sang. In the woods, owls called to each other, and from the Narrows Pond, just down the road, the loons added their haunting voices to this late summer song. I looked up. The dark sky was framed by the branches of trees, and stars sparkled inside the frame.

A beautiful night, and both Clif and I felt very fortunate to be in our own backyard on such a fine evening.

With summer coming to a close, I am frantically washing all our heavy quilts and blankets so that they can dry outside, either draped over lawn chairs or hung on the clothsline. With all this domestic bustling, I feel a little bit like a character out of one of Miss Read’s novel. The weather is supposed to be beautiful this weekend, and my husband, Clif, and I have it packed full of all things good and outside—bike rides, pizza, fish and chips, getting together with friends, and last but certainly not least, a fire in our fire pit where we will make S’mores.

From the Modern Farmer: Good news about farming in Maine. “Farms are being started at a rate nearly four times faster than the national average, the average age of its farmers is below the national — and rapidly greying — average (and keep in mind Maine is the most geriatric state in the Union), and it boasts one of the highest organic-to-conventional-farm ratios in the United States.”

From NPR’s the salt: A piece about the book, The Rise of Ramen, which is, of course, about ramen noodles and how they have become the food of choice for poor people all around the world.

From the Portland Press Herald: A review of Cia’s Cafe in South Portland. The photo of a veggie wrap in progress looks so good that I think I’ll make my own veggie wrap for lunch.

From the New York Times: Melissa Clark’s recipe for berry muffins with a crumb topping. There is an accompanying video, and the finished muffins look so delicious that I could have one right now. Make that two.

Again from the New York Times: For the last days of summer and the early days of fall—suggestions for grilling meat with rubs rather than with a marinade.

From the Global Post: Hot chocolate helps the brain. As cold weather is right around the corner for many of us, this is good news indeed. Drink up!

Last night, as soon as my husband, Clif, came home from work, we went on a bike ride. The heat of the day had subsided, and the air was lovely and warm, perfect for riding in a T-shirt. Up our road we went, past some old apple trees that have already begun dropping their fruit and past a field with hay that had just been cut. Big rolls of hay were lined by the edge, and they looked like the backs of large, slumbering animals.

We went on our usual route, on Memorial Drive, which goes by Maranacook Lake, and the water shimmered and rippled in the setting sun. All along the drive, people were grilling their supper. We always have our supper after our bike ride, and the smoky smell of cooking meat was irresistible to us, making us even more hungry than we already were.

Our town’s moto is “Winthrop Plays Outside,” and we even have nifty little signs, many on Memorial Drive, proclaiming this.

“Winthrop also cooks,” I called to Clif as we passed yet another house with a smoking grill.

“And sometimes they cook outside,” Clif called back.

What a town! Not only do we play outside, but we also cook outside.

We continued down the drive. I waved to a couple sitting on their porch overlooking the lake, and they waved back. We slowed down to chat with another couple who was walking 3 dogs—a border collie, a puggle, and a terrier. The puggle was their dog, and they were dogsitting the other two. I expected the border collie to lunge for us as we pulled away from them and picked up speed, but instead it was the terrier. Fortunately, they were all on leashes and under control.

We went our 5 miles and headed back. Even though we were hungry, we took a few minutes to sit at the public beach and watch the water and the swimmers. We smiled as we listened to the exuberant shrieks of the children as they splashed and played.

We live only a mile from the beach, so it was a short ride back to our home and to our supper. We passed Mia Lina’s, and the smell of pizza was just as enticing as the smell of grilled meat.

“Let’s stop for pizza on Friday,” I said.

“Sounds good,” Clif replied.

As we topped the hill of our road, the big orange moon, oddly enough called a blue moon, rose just over the horizon. As we sped down the hill, the moon gazed serenely down on us, and it was so beautiful and fantastical that it seemed as though it had come directly from a George Méliès movie. No wonder the moon is a constant inspiration, spanning generations and centuries.

No grilled meat or pizza were waiting for us when we got home, but there was freshly baked corn bread, cold chicken, and pasta with vegetables. After a 10 mile bike ride, we were both good eaters, savoring every bite.