This week I gave my poodle a full makeover, played chicken with a garden snake, and ate dinner sometime between bedtime and dawn. I also made beet salad, tended to flowers, and performed emergency surgery on a carnivorous plant. You know. Summer stuff.
Philip’s Summer Cut
Grooming a standard poodle isn't something you do, it's something you survive. You get a badge.
Day 1 was the bath and blow dry. A half hour for shampoo, conditioner, and towel-dry. Then 2.5 hours of drying—1 hour fast-dry, 30 minute break for trauma recovery and snacks, and 1 hour of fluff drying him into something between a show dog and a feather boa.
Day 2 was the detail work: shaving his feet & face, trimming his body, scissoring his topknot, and shaping his tail puff and bracelets. Yes, those puffy things on his legs are bracelets, not pompoms. You're now prepared to impress any poodle groomer with your lingo.
Last groom he had a French moustache and suddenly started liking stinky cheese. Now he looks like a freshly groomed aristocrat of - I'm going to say Icelandic origin - who has strong opinions about sea trout.
The 10 PM Dinners
I used to eat when I was hungry. In the summer I eat when I can't see the seeds I'm planting or weeds I'm pulling anymore. Usually around the same time the raccoons clock in, and an hour into mosquitos cocktail hour.
This week, I dipped into the freezer stash of homemade TV dinners I made for Betty—specifically, a Thanksgiving special: turkey, stuffing, rutabaga, red cabbage, mashed potatoes, broccoli casserole, and cranberry sauce, all packed into a foil tray like a nostalgic miracle.
Turns out I’m the kind of person who meal-preps for others, then eats their rations in secret while standing barefoot in the kitchen at 11:30 p.m.
Snake Season: Commenced
I saw the first snake of the season in the garden this week, which means it's officially summer. It was harmless.
A reminder: snakes are more afraid of us than we are of them. Unless you’re me—then it’s a mutually startling situation. Like I say. I'm not afraid of snakes per se but they sure can startle me.
The Beet Is Dead. Long Live the Beet.
I used the last two beets from 2024. That means I successfully stretched my harvest across eight months. Into salad they went, accompanied by goat cheese, fresh lettuce, pickled beets and some slivered almonds. I'm now beetless and also down to my last jar of picked beets.
Would you like to save this stuff?
We'll email you this post, so you can refer to it later.
The beet salad event was followed by lots of photos and messages to let everyone know I am the person who eats her own vegetables in June and won’t shut up about it.
Beets: gone. Freezer: victorious. Salad: excellent.
Floral Overload & Poppy Experiments
The flowers are out of control.
Between the roses, poppies, and the house smells like a Merchant Ivory film.
The Shirley poppies are in full swing—mostly white, as expected, but a few rogue colours have shown up this year. There’s a pink with a darker centre, and one that looks like it’s been dusted with raspberry powder. I’ll try to hand-pollinate and save the seeds so I can fail at growing them next year.
Maureen, in Crisis
If you’re just joining us, Maureen is the Venus Flytrap I neither asked for nor know how to care for.
When gifted her I assumed she’d die immediately. Instead, she flourished for three-quarters of a month. She grew new traps, caught unsuspecting ants, and developed a certain ... vibe.
But this week, Maureen took a turn.
Overnight, a whack of her traps blackened and collapsed. I have no idea why she came close to death overnight. It could have been a strong rain we had? Maybe she finally read the news. Either way she looks grim.
I trimmed the dead traps off so now we wait and see. She still hasn't vomited that big bug from last week (which wasn't one of the traps that died.) LUCKILY we all still have that reveal to look forward to.
Anyhow, she’s now in intensive care. So that’s where we are.
Maureen is resting.
That’s the week.
The freezer’s emptier.
Philip’s fancier.
Maureen’s... hanging on.
And the snake is probably somewhere.
—Karen
Kathryn Vezerian
Philip looks very striking. What are you going to craft with all that fur? I'm sure you'll think of something. Are you his hairdresser? I think Maureen watched the news. I feel like parts of me are turning black and falling off too. I love June in the garden, except for the jumping out snakes. It is at it's most lush and beautiful. Happy gardening.
Karen
Thanks Kathryn. Yes, I am his hairdresser. I had a reader offer to spin his hair for me, but I feel like it'd be itchy. And a bit weird. But fun. Anyhow, I have mixed feelings obviously. Tomorrow I tackle pruning the apple trees. ~ karen!