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.

The acorns have begun falling on the roof of the little house in the big woods. Ploink, ploink.  The sound of mid-August. From my backyard, I can still hear the call of the loons, and hummingbirds are still coming to the feeders. But make no mistake: September is just around the corner. So let us enjoy August while it is here—-the warm, sunny days, the cool evenings, and the songs of crickets and grasshoppers.

From NPR’s the salt: Ever think about who picks your berries? Eliza Barclay’s piece illustrates why you should.

From the Bowdoin Daily Sun: Volunteer night at the Bowdoin Organic Garden.

From Huffington Post: A very funny guide to bad lobster rolls.

From the Portland Press Herald: “Mainers feeding Mainers.” Maine Farmers have begun growing food for the Good Shepherd Food Bank as well as for various food pantries.

And now, some suggestions for everyone who has too much zucchini or, as a substitute, summer squash.

First, from epicurious: Zucchini patties with feta.

Second, from NPR: Three recipes using zucchini.