More Lunchtime views.   Mostly from the rear view mirror, due to our moving back to town from the farm in December of 2011.  I really miss the days when we’d walk out the front door of our cabin and into the blueberry terraces, the raspberry rows, and the apple orchard.  There were also two pear trees, and a cherry tree.  And of course, there was our luscious vegetable Garden, too.

Heirloom Apple Blossoms

I wish you could smell these.  They are intoxicating.  I’ve been fortunate enough to smell the sweetness of Orange Blossoms, too.  Right after a rain shower in the late morning, while riding my horse through the groves.  Orange and Apple blossom perfume, one of those experiences which cannot ever be adequately described with words.  I can’t, anyway.

Heirloom Apple

Pears. From our (then) front yard.  Crisp and sweet.  They were great in pies, and made a pretty smooth wine, too.

The best wine, though, was a batch of bad-ass Blueberry Champagne that Mr. Gardener made.  Unfortunately, there are no photos of our wines.  (Surely, there must be a logical explanation for that?!  I just can’t think of one.)

One morning, we had a bottle explode from a top shelf in the kitchen.  Luckily, everyone happened to be in other rooms, at the time, and no one was injured.  It sure did make a mess.  But, I was more upset about losing the decadent juice than anything else.

God bless the Benedictine Monks!

Want some?

Yes indeed! Blueberry pancakes for lunch…  And dinner too.

Did I mention the pies?  Hot and bubbly, fresh out of fields, and the oven.

In addition to the wineberries, blueberries and raspberries, we also had blackberries.  With and without thorns.  The Thornless Blackberry variety.  All exquisitely delicious.

What can I say? I’m also a fool for fungus.  The mighty Morchella.  One of their favourite places to grow is near and under apple trees.  I can vouch for that!
They’re called The “Great” Morel at this –>website.  More on Morella here.

This is what our kitchen table looked like, most of the time, from June through September.  When we’re eating good in the neighbourhood!

Beehives were also kept out at the farm.  So honey was readily available.  Not without incidence, I must report.  The beekeeper in-charge claimed that his bees were of the “Italian variety”.  And that,  they are noted for their particularly docile temperament.  That sounded strange to me, right off the bat.  Italian and docile in the same sentence?  Minus the qualifying “not”-docile?

Not that it was the bees fault.  Or,  that Mr. Bee Keeper only used one puff of smoke to sedate the bees, before removing the combs.  ALL  25-30 boxes filled with bees?!!  That too, was strange to me.  That he’d only use one puff of smoke for the entire duration of collecting the combs.

Although I’m not a beekeeper, it was alarming.  Everyone who was attending, and watching,  from the presumed “safe” distance, got a fair helping of bee stings.  I have photos of my one sting, but I’m not inclined to post my face, especially while resembling Wilson.  The Basketball.

A few days later, when my eyes were no longer swollen shut, I met-up with the alleged, resident beekeeper and snarked, that I’d never known anything Italian, which I could or would consider to be docile.  Hmpf.

More of Nature’s Candies
I still adore bees,  and will no doubt continue to get too close to them, for my own good.  I’d even commit to another sting, right square in the third eye again, just to have the magical experience of the whole process of beekeeping, and honey extraction and processing.  Except for, the bees die after they’ve nailed their targets.

One particularly unwelcome lunch guest:  the tomato hornworm.  More photos and info here –>EWWWW!!  This is why we do not kill wasps.  And this caterpillar  doesn’t  even grow-up to be pretty,  either!  In my opinion.
But, Andrew Zimmern might like ‘em.

A much more welcomed guest for lunch.  It’s “Chip”!

Here are just a couple of places “where” I like to eat.  And, with “who”.

One of my favourite lunchtime places to eat…. picnic in the park.

Or,  hike up to a ridgeline,  and eat  “on top of the world”.

The Newfound Mountain range.

My very own Sherpa guide, with benefits.

Framed, naturally.

And, one more, from the edge.

Tomorrow, some vintage lunch pix.